t ]JBRAU-r OF CONGRESS. *■ 






I UNITED STATES OF AMi:i(ICA.| 



/\ 



MISSIONARY PATRIOTS 

M E M O I K S 



OP 



JAMES H. SCHNEIDER 



AND 



EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



BY 

INCREASE N/TAEBOX, 

AUTHOR OF "buried CITY," "TYRE AND ALEXANDRIA," EIO. 









BOSTON: 

MASSACHUSETTS SABBATH SCHOOL SOCIETY, 

Depository 13 Cornhill, 

1867. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the j-oar 1SG7, by 

M. II. SARGENT, Trcas. Mass. S. S. Soc'y, 

In the Clerk's Offico of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts . 



CONTENTS. 



PAOB 

Introductory Chapter, 7 

JAMES II. SCIINEIDEIl. 
I. — Birth AND Early Years, . . . .19 
II. — Removal TO Aintab, 31 

III. — Removal TO Tins Country, . . . .48 

IV. — School Days, 64 

V. — College Life, 79 

VI. — Connection with Normal School at 

Bridgewater, 98 

VII. — Enters the Army. Ordained and be- 
comes Chaplain, . . . .118 
VIII. — The Regiment ordered South. Goes to 

Ship Island, 138 

IX. — Regiment removed to Key West, . . 159 
X. — Sudden Death. Letters of Condolence, 183 

fill) 



IV CONTENTS. 

XI. — Testimonials of Classmates and various 

Friends, 207 

EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 

I. — Early Years, 241 

II. — Removal to THIS Country. School Days, . 263 
III. — Enters THE Army. Early Experiences, .288 
IV. — Killed in Battle, 315 



MEMOIRS. 



|hitriDi)uct0rn. 



IN all the sad and trying years of our late 
war, if there was any class of American-born 
citizens whose hearts beat as the heart of one 
man for liberty and the national cause, it was 
the goodly company of American missionaries, 
scattered far and wide through the earth. At 
the last meeting of the American Board at 
Pittsfield, one of the Secretaries, giving an ac- 
count of certain patriotic efforts of a mission- 
ary in former years, said sportively, " But the 
truth is, our missionaries, all the world over, 
are afflicted with patriotism, so that this may 
be accounted a chronic difficulty." From 
their lonely posts of observation in distant 
lands, — in the far East, in the Turkish Em- 

(7) 



8 INTRODUCTORY. 



pire, in the islands of the sea, — as they looked 
on through these troubled years of conflict, 
they saw, even more clearly than we at home, 
the vast importance of a right decision. The 
questions at issue had with them, if possible, 
a deeper and more comprehensive meaning 
than with ns. They saw that the influence of 
this land for good among the nations of the 
earth must be essentially lost, if the forces of 
evil should prevail and rend the great Re- 
public. Educated men as they were, with 
large experience and observation, knowing 
tiie thoughts that were passing in the courts 
of kings and oppressors, as also among the 
poor and humble of the earth, they saw, al- 
most as no other men could see, that it would 
be a dark day for the world, if the sun of free- 
dom, shining over this western continent, 
should suffer a sad eclipse, and the hosts of 
slavery and rebellion achieve a triumph. 

No more earnest prayers went up to Heaven 
for the good cause than those that ascended 
from these missionary dwellings in every part 
of the world. And more tlian tliis. The mis- 



INTRODUCTORY. 9 



sionary churches everywhere caught the spirit 
of their teachers. In their religious assem- 
blies, America, the land that had sent to them 
the Bread of Life, was never forgotten. 

It was not strange, therefore, that the sons 
of missionaries, already in this land for pur- 
poses of business or education, or still living 
in their distant homes, should feel the patri- 
otic fire burning within them, and should re- 
solve, through peril and self-sacrifice, to de- 
fend the land of their fathers in its day of 
darkness and trouble. 

It would be an interesting record, if some 
one, having access to the facts, would prepare a 
narrative in detail, giving the names of the 
sons of missionaries who served in our army 
in divers capacities, — some of them officers of 
high rank, and others in lowlier places, — 
and of the various fortunes that befell them. 
The purpose of this volume is to show what 
took place in connection with the family of one 
of these missionaries. 

Rev. Benjamin Schneider, D. D., of Aintab, 
Syria, was a native of Pennsylvania. He was 



10 INTRODUCTORY. 



of German descent, but was educated in New 
England, graduating at Amherst College in 
1830, and at Andover Theological Seminary 
in 1833. He was soon after married to Miss 
Eliza Abbott, daughter of Josiah Abbott, of 
Framingham, Mass. ; and with his wife, in 
company with Rev. Thomas P. Johnston and 
wife, sailed from Boston, Dec. 12th, 1833, for 
Smyrna. On reaching that place, the little 
company passed on to Constantinople, arriving 
there in the month of February, 1834. When 
these missionaries left this country, it was ex- 
pected that they would go together to the city 
of Broosa, which the American Board had just 
then resolved to occupy as a missionary sta- 
tion. But at Constantinople it was found 
expedient that the plan should be changed, 
and that Mr. S. and wife should go alone to 
Broosa. Accordingly, in company with Rev. 
Mr. Goodell,* — now the veteran and honored 
Dr. Goodell, — Mr. S. visited Broosa, and 
made arrangements for a missionary dwelling, 

* Since the above was written, Dr. Goodell lias passed 
away by death. 



INTRODUCTORY. 11 



and, ill July following, he and his wife took up 
their residence in this new field of labor. 

The city of Broosa is situated about eighty 
miles nearly south from Constantinople, and 
was the chief city of the old province of Bi- 
thynia. Like many other ancient names, it 
has been subject to a great variety of spellings. 
It is called in history, variously, Brusa, Byrsa, 
Prusa, Brousa, Broussa, Broossa, and Broosa. 
The last is the form usually adopted by the 
missionaries. This was anciently, and is still, 
a place of great importance. It does not, in- 
deed, come into view in the New Testament 
records, though it was in the same general 
region with the " seven churches of Asia.'' 
In the 16th chapter of Acts it is said of Paul 
and Timotheus in their journeyings, " After 
they were come to Mysia, they assayed to go 
into Bithynia; but the Spirit suffered them 
not." Though lying so near the scene of the 
great apostle's labor and travel, it does not 
appear that he ever visited this province. 

In the days of Paul, all this part of the 
world, of course, was included in the great 



12 INTRODUCTORY. 



Eomaii Empire, which then ruled with ahnost 
universal sway. But, after a few centuries 
had passed, this empire fell asunder by its 
own weight, and, in the year 328, under Con- 
stantine, there came to exist what is known 
in history as the Eastern Empire. This em- 
pire, with Constantinople (the city of Con- 
stantino) as its capital, though not without 
many outward wars and internal commotions, 
lasted more than a thousand years ; but at 
length it began to be invaded from the East 
by the cruel followers of the False Prophet. 
On they moved, fired with fanatical zeal and 
hate. Little by little the empire yielded be- 
fore their conquering march. Province after 
province fell away, and was added to the ad- 
vancing kingdom of the Mohammedans. From 
generation to generation the war went on. 
At length, in the year 1326, Othman, the 
then leader of the invading hosts (who gave 
the name of Ottoman to the new empire), 
heard in liis old age that his son Orchan 
had taken tlie city of Broosa, or Prusa, as it 
was then called. Gibbon says, "From the 



INTRODUCTORY. 13 



conquest of Prusa, we may dato the true 
era of the Ottoman Empire. The lives and 
possessions of the Christian subjects were re- 
deemed by a tribute, or ransom, of thirty 
thousand crowns of gold ; and the city, by 
the labors of Orchan, assumed the aspect of 
a Mahometan capital. Prusa was decorated 
with a mosque, a college, and an hospital of 
royal foundation." 

From this time on, for more than a century, 
Broosa was the capital of the Ottoman or 
Turkish Empire. Here the invading forces 
waited patiently to gather head for their last 
great and overwhelming attack, and in the 
year 1453, under the leadership of Mahomet 
II., the great city of Constantinople was taken, 
after an obstinate contest ; sixty thousand of 
its inhabitants were mercilessly put to death ; 
and the Eastern Empire was no more. 

We have briefly recapitulated these facts of 
history, that it might be understood wliat kind 
of a place Broosa was as a field of missionary 
labor. More than any other empire on the 
cartli, tlio Turkish Empire is one of mixed 



14 INTRODUCTORY. 



nationalities. In these central portions of tlio 
earth, around the early cradle of the race, 
conquest has followed conquest until the frag- 
ments of old nations are thrown confusedly 
together. At the time when the American 
Board made choice of Broosa as a missionary 
station, it contained not far from sixty thou- 
sand inhabitants. Of these, about six thou- 
sand were Greeks, belonging to the Greek 
Church ; about six thousand were Armenians, 
having also their separate church organization ; 
there was a smaller number of Jews, and a 
still smaller number of Roman Catholics. 
The rest of the population was mainly Mo- 
hammedan, the dominant population of the 
city and of the empire. Goodrich, in his 
" Pictorial Geography," writing at a later 
date, gives a larger population than we have 
named. He says of the place, " It is one of 
the most flourishing cities of the empire. It 
contains an ancient castle, a number of mag- 
nificent mosques, handsome caravanseries, and 
fine fountains, and has a hundred thousand 
inhabitants actively employed in manufactures 



INTRODUCTORY. 15 



and commerce. . . . It is the rendezvous of 
the caravans trading between Constantinople 
and the East, and contains many handsome 
buildings. Its cemeteries are remarkable for 
their extent and elegance, — the rich Turks 
of the European shore still preferring to bo 
buried in Asia, out of love to the ancient land 
of their fathers." 

The city is near the foot of that range of 
lofty mountains called the Mysian Olympus, 
and sometimes simply Mount Olympus ; thougli 
the more famous mountain of tliat name, the 
fabled residence of the gods, is in Europe, on 
the confines of ancient Thessaly and Macedo- 
nia. But the Asiatic Olympus, skirting the 
borders of Mysia and Bithynia, rises proudly 
before the eye, and makes the region " rich in 
all the changes of beauty and grandeur." 
Near this spot is the ancient village of Nice, 
now called Isnik, a place of small importance 
in itself, but famous in history as the spot 
whore the first general council of all Chris- 
tendom was convened in the year 325. 

It was in this city of Broosa, in July, 1834, 



16 INTRODUCTORY. 



that the youthful missionary and his wife — 
most happily united in zeal for the great Mas- 
ter whom they served, and in readiness to do 
whatsoever their hands might find to do to pro- 
mote his cause and kingdom — took up their 
abode. As missionary ground, the field was 
new; and difficulties of many kinds were to 
bo encountered and overcome. But with faith 
in God, and animated with youthful hope, 
they patiently endured, and obtained the 
promises. Here they remained some fifteen 
years, until called in the providence of God to 
another and more distant field of labor. Here 
children were born to them. To tell the story 
of the life and death of two of these children — 
a story sad, but rich in precious memories 
— is the object of the present volume. 



JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



(17) 



CHAPTER I. 

BIETH AND EARLY YEARS. 

JAMES H. SCHNEIDER was born in Broosa, 
Asia Minor, on the 14th of March, 1839. 
He was the third child in a family of five, — 
two daughters and three sons. So soon as he 
came to years of observation, he looked out 
upon a crowded and bustling city, filled with 
strange sights and sounds. As has been al- 
ready stated, the predominant population of 
the city was Mohammedan. This is the re- 
ligion of the empire, of which the city is a 
part; and consequently, both by reason of 
numbers and the favor of the government, 
this form of religion displayed itself with more 
openness and show than any other. Here 
were costly and splendid mosques ; here the 
great fast and feast days were kept with noisy 
and imposing ceremonies, and everywhere the 
eyes and ears were assailed with the rites and 

(19) 



20 JAIMES H. SCHNKIDKU. 



forms and usages of the followers of the Falso 
Prophet. But there were also in the city 
some six tlunisaud inhabitants of the Greek 
Church, — a Christian population in name, and 
only in name. Like the rest of those great 
organizations into which the Christian Church, 
in the early centuries, became divided, it had 
the form of godliness, but denied the power 
thereof. Almost every vestige of evangelical 
piety and true spirituality had long ago died 
out from it. In the early years of Dr. Schnei- 
der's missionary life, his labors were chiefly 
among this Greek population. 

There were also in this city some six thou- 
sand Armenians, members of the old Armenian 
Church, whoso origin dates back to the fourth 
century of our era. Then it was, when Con- 
stantino having declared the Roman Empire a 
Christian state, that apostles of the faith went 
forth in various directions, and, among tho 
rest, Gregory the Enlightener, as he was 
called, who carried the gospel to the Armeni- 
ans, and laid the foundation of this Armenian 
Church. Meanwhile, as the centuries had 
been rolling away, these Armenians, broken 
\ip in their own land by war and conquest, or 



I'.UVni AND EARLY YEAItS. 21 



fitirrcd })y 'desires of traffic and j^aiii, liad bc- 
coiric miijglod up with tlio various races 
thrown proiriisctiouHly tog(ithcr in the Turkish 
Empire. In tlie early days of our 'J'urkish 
missions, tliere was more expectation of suc- 
cess in missionary labor among the (i reeks 
than among tliis people. i>ut })y degrees it 
was discovered that the minds of the Armeni- 
ans were far more susceptible to the influence 
of vital Christianity than any other people in 
the empire; and the later labors of the Amer- 
ican Hoard in that quarter of the woild have 
been mainly among tlie Armenians. Every 
one at all acquainted witli foreign missionary 
operations knows with what an encouraging, 
and even wonderful, measure of success these 
labors have been attended. Eut, as we have 
already said, when l>r. S. first went to Hroosa, 
in 1834, it was more especially his business to 
carry the gospel to tlie Greeks. 

There were at that time in the city three 
synagogues of Jews ; for, ijj every place al- 
most throughout the world, where traffic is 
going on, this remarkable race is to be found. 
And especially in all those central portions 
of the earth near to the ancient home of these 



22 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



children of Abraham, in every city and village 
almost, Jews, in greater or less numbers, are , 
almost certain to be found. And, as has 
already been said, there was a small element 
in the population of Roman Catholics. One 
third or one fourth part of the population was 
therefore Christian in name ; but, in all the 
city, at the time our missionaries went there, 
there was almost nothing that was Christian, 
according to the pure and simple standard of 
the New Testament. 

Surrounded by such outward associations 
as these, young Schneider passed the early 
years of his life. Writing, as we do, so far 
from the place of his birth and so far from 
those who would retain many of the incidents 
of his childhood, we shall be compelled to 
■ leave this part of our narrative less fully de- 
veloped and illustrated than we could desire. 
His father says of him, " As to incidents in 
his early life, none of a peculiar nature marked 
his childhood. He was kind and gentle in his 
disposition, and gave his parents less care and 
anxiety, probably, than children usually do. 
. . . His education, before he went to America, 
was mainly in the hands of his excellent and 



BIRTH AND EARLY YEARS. 23 



beloved mother (now dead). From the pres- 
sure of missionary work resting upon me in 
thigf great field, I could give him and my 
other children but imperfect attention in this 
respect; and hence the intellectual training 
of these sons fell chiefly upon her. By the 
energy and activity of her character, she was 
enabled to do more in this particular than 
most persons would have thought possible. 
Still, with the cares of her family and the 
share she took in our missionary work, the 
children could not have the same amount of 
intellectual care which those of a similar 
age in America usually receive." 

In this modest passage. Dr. S. has probably 
undervalued his own influence and agency in 
the formation of the character of the children, 
while those who were acquainted with their 
mother will bear witness that he has not over- 
estimated hers. She was, in many respects, a 
woman of rare qualities of character, — ener- 
getic in her household and in outside mission- 
ary work ; full of zeal and courage for the 
ISlaster ; with such a kindling element of im- 
agination in her nature as to keep her buoyant 
and hopeful when clouds were dark, and when 



24 JAMES n. SCHNEIDER. 



many women, fur from their homo and their 
native hxnd, -would have been sad and dis- 
couraged, and would have given themseh'os 
up to vain repinings. For these early years 
of missionary labor in the Turkish Empire 
were by no means years of security and ease. 
Protestants had no real protection for them- 
selves from any quarter, while they were 
among a people proud and self-confident, and 
able to throw perpetual obstacles in the way 
of the missionary. The Turkish Government 
had been compelled to grant a kind of tolera- 
tion to the dilferent Christian sects of the 
empire, so that the religious aftliirs of the 
Armenians were in their own hands, and oth- 
ers must not interfere. So with the Greek 
Church, the Roman Catholic, the Jews. If 
the C^i'eek Church wished to punish a man 
for leaving its fold and going over to the 
missionaries, the government, in those years, 
said, virtually, " We have nothing to do with 
this matter ; the Greek Church manages its 
own religious affairs." As a consequence, 
the missionaries were subject to endless in- 
terference in their work, and they had noth- 
ing to do but to possess their souls in patience 



BIRTH AND I:ARLY YEARS. 25 



amid endless provocations, and look to Heaven 
for wisdom and strength. 

In the absence of sucli incidents as wo 
could desire for the better illustration of 
these early years of young Schneider's life^- 
it may Ijc well for us to gather a few facts 
and incidents from the early communications 
of his father to the "Missionary Herald." 
These will help to show the character of the 
city in which he lived, and what was taking 
place at tliat early period, when his eyes were 
first opened to watch the scenes that were 
going on around him. We shall cull these 
witliout any particular reference to dates, 
witli the simple design of showing what the 
life of a Christian missionary in the East 
then was, and what must have been some of 
the thoughts and feelings of a quick and ob- 
serving boy in the midst of such an uncer- 
tain and tumultuous life. 

When Dr. S. first visited Broosa, in com- 
pany with Dr. Goodell, the common people 
seemed pleased with the idea that a mission- 
ary was coming to reside among them, and 
arrangements were readily made by which a 
dwcllino; was hired for a residence. But 



2G JAMES II. SC UN RIDER. 



when Mv. and Mrs. 8. caiuo to Broosa to 
take the dwelling, ho loiind, *' that the Greek 
bishop had coiliunaiidod his people not to 
furnish us a house until he had written to 
the Patriareh of Constantinople about it, at 
the same time threatening to use his inllu- 
enee with him to interpose his authority. 
Ihit the owner of the house, being a man 
considerably enlightened, would not be de- 
terred by the menace of the bishop. Tiio 
house was his, and he would dispose of it 
as he saw fit. If any one wished for it, ho 
would give him the use of it at his own 
pleasure. . . . Thus we have been permitted to 
settle down quietly under our own vine and 
fig-tree, grateful that we have a shelter, re- 
membering that our iSaviour had not so 
much as where to lay his head." 

The following picture shows that his lot 
was now cast among the ** habitations of cru- 
elty " : — 

" As I walked out to-day, I saw several 
young Turks led along the streets with their 
hands tied. They had just come from a 
neighboring village, where they were taken 
by force and surprise to bo made soldiers. 



BIRTFl AND PIARLY YEARS. 27 



On Olio occasion I saw fifty or more linked 
together, two by two, drawn along the street 
like so many criminals. Tliey have just been 
torn from the embraces of their families, 
perhaps never to see them again. . . . When 
soldiers are needed, each village must fur- 
nish a number proportioned to its popula- 
tion. Whoever happens to Ijc in the street 
is apprehended and brought bound to the 
place of rendezvous. Thus they proceed till 
the requisite number is obtained." 

The following will help the reader to catch 
a clear conception of the scenery surrounding 
the plain on which Broosa stands : — 

" To-day ascended Mount Olympus in com- 
pany with Mr. Merrick and Mr. Powers. We 
started early in the morning, having wrapped 
ourselves in warm clothing for the cold at- 
mosphere of the mountain. As we began to 
ascend, the sun had risen a little above the 
horizon, giving a beautiful appearance to the 
city. Notwithstanding the unfavorable exte- 
rior of Turkish edifices, the view was charm- 
ing. How much more so would it have been, 
if Philadelphia (the modern American city), 
with its regular streets and fine buildings, had 



28 JVMKS II. SvllNKlPKU. 



boon spivavi out to our v\o\v. luvioovi, if Hivosn 
\voiv in tho han^is of an onlii^htonoil aiwi 
Christian nation, \t Wv^uUl Ihwmiio a |nira^ii>o, 
. . . Tho ploasnro ot* plantinjr our toot upon tho 
hiiihost point ot* Olvmpus was an abundant 
ooiuponsativMi tor our toil. Ki\Mn this on\i- 
nouv'o tlfo soono was truly suMinio. . . . Tho 
iiitVoronoo bot\Ni\M\ tho thornionioior on tho 
top and at tho bottom of tho mountain was 
thirtx t\\ do^roos. it boiug sixty twobohnN. . . . 
Not louix sinoo tho hiM;\ht v^t'tho monuiam was 
takon bv a Krou«.'h iroutUunau. Ai\\n-diu;\- to 
n\_v iutorm.mt, w hv> was prosoul w hon tho 
luoasurouiont was takon. tho altituJo is oi;vhl 
thousand t'oot abovo tho soa." 

Sut.*h a nivHiutain, as it is soon in wintor 
and snmmor, in storm and sunshino, - — w hon 
tho first rays of tho niorniuir kiuvllo if, and 
>vhon tho lii^ht o( tho sotting- sun phns 
around its suowy sumu\its. is iu itsolf an 
ovorlastiuii" storohonso of intlnonoos. uot oulv 
uiatorial but a^sthoti*.' ami spiritual. All t!io 
oporations of naturo around thoso mountain 
hoights aro on a soalo o( majosty and pi>wor. 
No wondiM- that tho anoiout dwollois iu thoso 
laiuls, with thoir wild nwiholoj^ios and supor- 



UntTH ANI; KAllhY YKAKH. 20 



Hliljoiis, should [>oof)lo those (Jiz/y siirnrriils 
of Uio worhi with bcingn of imaf/iiiatiou. 

" To-day coinirionocd tho corhan hdram, a 
f(;ast of MussulinanH continuiDg four (Jays. . . . 
1 1, (Jr;iivcs its iiaifKi from tiioir custom of ol>- 
Borvin<^ a sacrifice (corban^ on tJic firnt day 
of the feast. Immediately on leaving the 
jnosfjue, after tlie morning prnyci-, the w'u'X'wn 
mnsl he Bacrificed. Kwi^vy Mussulman who is 
ahh; to f)urchaHe a slicep is bound to obey tho 
cus^()m. WIkmi tliey are poor, several unite, 
and d(!fi;i,y th(; (jxpensos togetlier, wliile tho 
rich kill ffoiri one to five and sometimes 
irior<;. It is sup[)0.sed that iu the city from 
twelve thousJind to fifteen thousand shee[) 
were slain, [)robably all of them within one 
hour." 

As tlie years were paBsiijg away, every now 
and then flames of of>position and persecu- 
tion would bo kindled by the authorities of 
the (Ireek (Jhurch. Some school of fifty, sixty, 
or seventy scliolars would be suddenly broken 
lip and Bcattered, and all the books used })y 
the school would be gathered together and 
burned. IJibles and New Testaments, distrib- 
uted among tho peo[>le, would share the Bamci 



30 JAMES 11. SCHNEIDER. 



fate. Nevertheless good was done. The word 
of God made triumphs, and, though it was the 
day of small things, as compared with Dr. S.'s 
later days of missionary life, he did not faint 
nor grow weary. The lamily remained hero 
until the early part of 1840, when James was 
ten years old. 



CIIAPTETl II. 

REMOVAL TO AINTAB. 

IN tlio year 1849, Dr. Sclincidcr removed 
from Broosa to Aiiitab, in Northern Syria. 
The two daugliters at this time were placed at 
scliool in Constaiithiople, wliilo Mr. and Mrs. 
S., witli the three Ijoys, went to Aintab. 

The occasion of this removal will be well 
remembered ])y those who have followed, from 
year to year, tlie history of the operations of 
the American Board. As early as tlie year 
1844, a religious movement began among the 
Armenian population in Aintal) and the region 
round about, of a truly remarka))le cliaracter. 
In tliat year, Dr. Azariali Smitli, of blessed 
memory, made a journey to Mosul, and, in go- 
ing and returning, lie twice passed through 
this portion of Hyria, and found among the 
peoi)le a remarkable susceptibility to religious 

truth. On his return to I>eirut he sent a na- 

(;n) 



82 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



tivc colporteur, with the Bible and other relig- 
ious books into those parts, and these were 
taken with wonderful avidity. This was in 
the year 1845. In 1847, Rev. Mr. Van Len- 
nep visited Aintab, and performed some mis- 
sionary labor, though his imperfect acquaint- 
ance with the language was a great hindrance 
to him in his work. In 1848, Dr. Schneider 
made a journey thither, and found things in a 
most hopeful condition. Up to this point of 
time, the main influence exerted upon the 
people had been through the Bible and relig- 
ious books, and not through the voice of the 
living preacher. Yet Dr. S., on making his 
visit there in 1848, writes : " There is now a 
permanent congregation of one hundred, and 
the prospect of a gradual yet constant increase 
is highly encouraging. You must not be sur- 
prised if there shall be, within a year or two, 
a congregation of two or three hundred, or 
even more." In the winter of 1848, a Chris- 
tian Church was formed at Aintab, and during 
the year 1848, Dr. Smith was requested to 
make his residence in this part of the country, 
and take charge of the Armenian department 
a.t Aleppo and Aintab. As already stated, in 



REMOVAL TO AINTAB. 



May, 1849, Dr. S. joined him, and from that 
time until the present, Aintab has been the 
scene of his labors, where the Lord has won- 
derfully prospered and blessed him in his 
work. 

If one will look upon the map, he will find 
Aintab a little way in the interior from the 
north-eastern point of the Mediterranean Sea. 
In a straight line, it is not distant perhaps from 
the sea more than sixty miles. But by the 
route usually travelled from the harbor of 
Scanderoon the distance is about ninety miles. 

In Aintab, the Armenians formed a large 
element in the population. At the time Dr. S. * 
went there*, he estimated their number at ten 
thousand. The city is not so large as Broosa. 
Another missionary reckoned the whole num- 
ber of dwellings in the city at four thousand, 
of which the Armenians had fifteen hundred. 
These Armenians of Aintab, and throughout 
all this section of the "Turkish Empire, were 
far more honest, sincere, simple-hearted than 
those in Constantinople and its vicinity. The 
Armenians of Constantinople were one hundred 
and fifty thousand in number, and though they 
had had much missionary labor bestowed upon 

3 



JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



them, the gospel, at litis time, had gained no 
remarkable triumphs among them. But they 
of Aintab and Aleppo, and in the surrounding 
country, were more noble than those in Con- 
stantinople, " in that they received the word 
with all readiness of mind, and searched the 
Scriptures daily whether those things were 
so." "When the Bible was first circulated 
there in 1845, they were prepared to receive 
it, and when the labors of the day were done, 
they gathered in little circles, night after night, 
to study the Scriptures. Tliey were " not far 
from the kingdom of heaven." 
* After reading the Bible for some time 
in this Avay, they became intensely desii'ous 
that a religious teacher should come and re- 
main among them, and they could hardly en- 
dure the delays and hindrances, until this was 
accomplished. In 1847, they received the 
joyful news that Mr. Van Lenncp was coming. 
They heard of him at Aleppo ; but as he did 
not arrive at Aintab so soon as was expected, 
one of their number wrote a letter, which he 
and sixteen others signed, and which was 
ready to be despatclied to Aleppo, when Mr. 
Van Lennep arrived in person, and the epistle 



REMOVAL TO AINTAB. 35 



was put into his liaiids. The expression " holy 
one," whicli occurs in it, is aftor the fashion 
of the ohl Armenian Churcii, wlicn a priest or 
preacher is addressed. Our missionaries do 
not encoura;^e tlie use of such hxnguage. We 
give this letter, as showing the state of mind 
among the Armenians of Aintab before any 
missionary had gone to reside among them. 

" It is now sixteen days, O holy one, since 
we sent you a letter ; and neither have you 
made your appearance, nor has an answer 
come to us. It is evident, holy ones, that you 
have laughed at our beards. If you intend to 
visit us, come on ; if not we must look after 
a preaclier for ourselves and ask one of Clod. 
These sixteen days have been sixteen years of 
anxious ex[)Gctation. ^J'liis is wi'ong, breth- 
ren. 

" Why have you thus long kept away from 
us ? We have })cen contending alone against 
the world. We have fought against the 
whole city, until only tliree men and a half 
remain against us. Why are you so careless ? 
When will you come ? If you behave so, we 
shall have to write to Constantinople ; we 
shall have to write to Smyrna for a preacher. 



3G JAiMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



I write no more, but hope to speak with you 
face to liicc iu Aiutab. Holy ones, I have 
written little but understand a great deal. 
Stop not any longer by the way ; reach this 
place by Easter." 

Rev. Mr. Yan Lennep remained but a short 
time at Aintab, because of his imperfect ac- 
quaintance with the language, and was suc- 
ceeded by Rev. Mr. Johnston. There were, 
of course, the same essential elements of so- 
ciety here as at Broosa, though mingled iu 
diilerent proportions. The Mohammedan part 
of the population was less when compared 
with the whole, and the Armenian greater. 
Hero, also, were Greeks and Jews and Cath- 
olics, and other Christian sects such as abound 
in all this part of the world. 

Aleppo is the capital, and the great centre 
of trade for northern Syria. It lies south 
from Aintab a distance of seventy-rive miles, 
and contains a population of 150,000. The 
general configuration of the country in these 
parts may be understood by remembering that 
the lofty double range of Lebanon (Libanus 
and Anti-Libanus) runs along near the shore 
of the Mediterranean, through nearly the 



IlEMOVAI. TO AINTAH. 'i7 



whole Icngili of Syria, h>o tliat Ibr a distance of 
many miles back from the Hca, tlio country is 
extremely rougli and mountainous. Jjeyond 
these mountain ranges, one looics out upon 
that hroad and level plain, — tlie early seat of 
empii-o, \7i11ch figures so largely both in sacred 
and pi'ofane history. A traveller, starting, for 
example, from the ancient city of Damascus, 
wliich is some tlir(;e liniidred miles soutii of 
Aintab, and journeying nortliward toward the 
latter city, will see all the way this Le})anon 
range towenug on his left or westerly side, while 
far away on the right will stretch this vast plain 
of the East. He will follow along the course 
of the river Orontes, which is fed }>y the 
streams coming down the easterly slope of the 
mountains keej)ing its track near their base, 
until it reaches the city of Antioch, where it 
makes a sudden bend to the west, and, through 
a pass in the mountains, pours its waters into 
the Mediterranean. Aintab is not out upon 
this level plain, neither is it in amid the fast- 
nesses of the mountains.. It is in the hill 
country where these moimtain ranges are 
spreading out, and fading away to the north. 
Uev. Dr. Anderson, late secretary of the 



38 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



American Board, in his journey to the East, 
in 1855, passed through this region, and spent 
two Sabbaths at Aintab. A few extracts from 
his letters home will give the reader a clear 
idea of the place and of the great work then 
going on. Dr. A., coming from Aleppo, 
reached Aintab on Friday. 

" A little past noon on tlie third day, five 
or six miles from Aintab, at least, a score of 
native brethren met us on horseback, with 
Messrs. Schneider, Pratt, and Becbee. Their 
cordial greetings affected us. When wx set 
forward, our native brethren preceded us, 
singing the hymn, in Turkish, — 

" * How sweet the name of Jesus sounds,' etc. 

And sweetly it did sound from such voices, as 
we rode along. Just before reaching the 
city, they again sang, — 

" ' When I behold the wondrous cross 
On which the Prince of Glory died,' etc. 

We soon felt ourselves to be in one of the 
great centres of missionary influence ; and 
every hour has strengthened this impression. 
Kessab is but an outpost to Aintab." 



REMOVAL TO AINTAB. 



He describes Aiiitab as " built upon three 
hills, rising from a valley and running cast 
and west." On the central hill, not quite so 
high as those on either side, is the church. 
" The building is of stone, with alternate lay- 
ers of white and black, and is eighty-two feet 
by fifty-nine. It has a gallery on three sides, 
and will seat fifteen hundred persons." Wc 
omit certain items pertaining to the history of 
the building, the manner in which the ground 
was secured, etc., and pass on to his descrip- 
tion of the Sabbath in Aintab, 

" Sabbath was to us a great day. The 
bright beams of the sun were attempered by 
the autumnal breezes ; and the surrounding 
stillness, owing to the absence of business 
from this part of tlie town, allowed us the full 
enjoyment of our hallowed privileges. First 
came the Sabbath school of sixty boys and 
seventy-six girls, superintended by a native 
theological student from Marash (which is 
becoming a station of great promise), and 
taught by six males and nine females from 
the native church, — Mrs. Schneider and Mrs. 
Pratt having each a class of the older girls. 
The dress, order, and manner of the scliool 



40 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



were all that could be expected, and even 



more." 



" Public worship commenced at eleven. 
Here we saw an audience of seven hundred 
people, all seated upon matting on the ground- 
floor. The lower part of the church was 
well filled, — the women being under the 
gallery on the north side, and rather crowded, 
and the men, composing two-thirds of the 
audience, occupying the rest of the space. 
The men took off their slippers as they en- 
tered, and deposited them on shelves made in 
the wall under the windows ; and the women 
did the same with their loose yellow boots. 
The dress was entirely oriental. With the 
males there was considerable variety, with a 
taste for strong colors ; but the whole person 
of the female, including the liead and part of 
the face, was covered with a well-adjusted 
white muslin, as largo as a sheet, which is 
supposed to be the veil worn by Rebecca, 
E-uth, and other women of ancient times in 
this part of the world. I found it hard to 
realize that the large audience before me was 
actually Protestant. Such, no doubt, is the 



REMOVAL TO AINTAB. 41 



fact, excepting the few strangers. Mr. 
Schneider preached from Rev. v. 12, ' Worthy 
is the Lamb,' etc., with animation and feeling. 
The aspect of the audience was eminently 
Christian. They also gave good attention in 
the afternoon, when most of my own discourse, 
kindly interpreted by Dr. Pratt, was com- 
posed of facts illustrating the recent progress 
of Christ's kingdom. That is a kingdom in 
whose prosperity not a few of the hearers had 
a deep sympathy. 

" On my way from church, I was interested 
to perceive how exactly Mr. Callioun's feel- 
ings tallied with my own. Neither of us has 
heretofore realized the greatness of the work 
here; and now the appropriate emotions 
foimd no easy utterance. The results would 
have seemed great after the labors of an age ; 
and scarcely nine years have elapsed since the 
first missionary visit was made by Mr. Yan 
Lenncp, and scarcely eight since Mr. Johnston 
was expelled from the place with tumult and 
stoning." 

• • • • • 

" The city of Antioch, once numbering its 
hundreds of tliousands, was long one of the 



42 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



grand centres of the Gin^istian world. For 
ages past, Aleppo has been the prominent city 
of Northern Syria. But the present Christian 
centre of this part of Syria is Aintab. For 
this section of country it is the Antioch of 
our day. The members of the church would 
perhaps be lightly esteemed by the more pol- 
ished Aleppines, and still more in the great 
metropolis ; but they are chosen of God, a 
royal priesthood, and are a blessing to thou- 
sands." 

Though there was, as we have said, a re- 
markable eagerness, on the part of many of 
the Armenians of Aintab, to hear the gospel, 
yet there was also a fierce spirit of opposition 
and persecution on the part of the old Arme-" 
nian Church. Indeed, this spirit of opposition, 
all the world over, is apt to be in proportion 
to the energy and success with which the real 
work of the gospel is going forward. Even 
in Christian America there is nothing like a 
powerful revival of religion to awaken the 
hatred and spite of many unconverted men. 
Before Mr. Schneider went there, this flame 
of persecution had been kindled, and, as sug- 
gested in the passage from Dr. Anderson, Rev. 



REMOVAL TO AINTAB. 43 



Mr. Johnston had been driven out of the city 
by a violent mob, which not only made use of 
hard and threatening words, but of stones also. 
When we consider what poor human nature 
is, it was not wonderful that this feeling of 
jealousy and hate should be kindled among 
the Armenian church-leaders, when they saw 
their people leaving them to follow new guides. 
It required, therefore, in the early days of the 
gospel work in this city, great wisdom and dis- 
cretion, so to conduct affairs as to avoid an 
outbreak of this tempest of wrath. The mis- 
sionaries knew well that these wild elements 
were all about them even when they were not 
let loose, and they needed to be " wise as ser- 
pents and harmless as doves," to prevent agi- 
tation and public alarm. 

At this place, the subject of our memoir 
lived three years, from the spring of 1849 to the 
spring of 1852. He was subject here to much 
the same outward influences as at Broosa, 
only he saw the gospel here making much 
more rapid progress than at his former resi- 
dence. He saw his father and mother both 
engaged most industriously, feeding the hun- 
gry souls about them ; for one of the peculi- 



44 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



aritics of this work at Aintab was that the 
gospel wrought as powerfully among the wom- 
en as the men. This, of course, in our own 
land, would not be strange ; but it was strange 
there. In all these Eastern countries, women 
are made to occui3y such a subordinate place 
in society, that they are perpetually kept in 
the background, and no public movement of 
any kind is expected to reach and affect them 
as it affects the men. But at Aintab the wom- 
en also received the gospel, and Mrs. Schnei- 
der, who was herself of a most elastic and 
enterprising nature, gave herself with all her 
energies to the work of instructing these Ar- 
menian women intellectually and spiritually. 
The missionary dwelling was a place of con- 
stant resort by inquirers after the truth. By 
day and by night they came to learn of Jesus 
and the great salvation. It can never perhaps 
be known what effect was wrought by all this 
upon the minds of the three boys, who were 
passing their childhood in the midst of these 
scenes, — what thoughts were awakened within 
them, — what seed was sown to bear fruit in 
after years. 

While living at Aintab, these children be- 



ItEBIOVAL TO AINTAH. 45 



came subjcQt to a curious disorder that prevails 
ill that part of the world, but which is more 
severe at Aiiitab than in any other place. Dr. 
Schneider describes it as follows : — 

" In Aintab, and many places in tliese re- 
gions, there is a singular plienomenon in the 
form of an eruption in the shape of a boil. It 
is called by Europeans the Aleppo hutton, be- 
cause they first met with it in that place ; but 
it is much more virulent in Aintalj. This 
boil or sore appears in childliood in the case 
of natives of Ahitab, and generally in the 
cheek. No one escapes it, and every child has 
at least one, and very often three, four, five, or 
more. From its commencement to its healing 
up, a year passes, and hence it is called by the 
natives the year sore. I have often seen the 
faces of children completely covered with this 
sore. It is not particularly painful, except 
when it is brought violently in contact with 
something. After healing up, a scar is left' 
and by that a citizen of Aintab may be recog- 
nized in any part of tlie world. We parents 
and our three sons all suffered from this erup- 
tion. I could not wear a hat for six months or 
more because of three of these large sores on 



40 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



my forehead ; though I coukl use the Turkish 
fez. James had an unusual number of them, 
— his face, neck, hands, and all the exposed 
parts of his body behig covered with them. I 
sent the water of five or six different springs, 
and several specimens of the rocks of Aintab 
to Dr. Hitchcock, of Amherst College, for anal- 
ysis, hoping that the cause of this phenomenon 
might be discovered ; but the analysis revealed 
nothing whatever as to its origin." 

In addition to what Dr. S. has thus written, 
we may relate, vv^hat we have heard from his 
own lips, that, if this sore is left entirely un- 
touched to work its own course, no very per- 
ceptible scar will remain ; but it is subject at 
times to an intolerable itching, and a child 
cannot usually have patience to let it alone. 
Moreover, it is exposed, especially in the case 
of young children, during the long period of 
its continuance, to many accidental collisions, 
by which the covering or scab is disturbed 
and the scar is left. With adults, as in the 
case of Mr. and Mrs. Schneider, where there 
is reason to guide, and where the necessary 
precautions will be taken, the scar is hardly 
noticeable. 



REMOVAL TO AINTAB. 47 



It seemed suitable here to make mention of 
this peculiar disease, because it had not a 
little to do with young Schneider's thoughts 
and feelings during all the early years of his 
life in this country. Naturally modest and 
bashful, he had, at times, especially among 
strangers, a painful sense of a certain injury 
or deformity wrought upon his face by this 
strange disorder. As he came to know him- 
self and the world better, this feeling gradually 
passed away, and in his later years it hardly 
entered his mind, at least as a painful or dis- 
turbing clement. 



CHAPTER III. 

REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. 

THUS far in our narrative, by the very ne- 
cessities of the case, the subject of this 
memoir has not come prominently into view. 
We could do little more than give a few lead- 
ing facts in his early history, and show the 
general surroundings by which his character 
was shaped and moulded. From this time 
onward the case will be different. 

One of the troublesome and painful ques- 
tions, which missionaries in every part of the 
world have to encounter and settle, pertains 
to their children. Wherever a foreign mis- 
sionary is sent to labor, the fact itself presup- 
poses a state of society wicked and corrupt. 
People sometimes please themselves and amuse 
others with long discourse about the natural 
goodness of man. But the great outstanding 
fact respecting this world is that it is a world 

(48) 



lUOMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. 49 



of sill and rcbollioii against (jlud. In no placo 
upon tlic earth, except where tlie gospel lias 
done its work, can even a lair standard of 
outward morality be found. And, indeed, 
there is no land as yet beneath the sun where 
the gospel of Jesus Christ has so tlioroughly 
])enetrated and prevailed tliat tlie wickedness 
and corruption of human society do not plainly 
appear. But the difTerence between a land 
like our own ])cloved New England, wliere tlie 
gospel has wrouglit as effectually i)erhaps ^s 
anywhere else in the world, and any country 
subject to Paganism, Mohaiumedanisni, or 
even some form of corrupted (Jiiristianity, is 
so great and manifest that no candid observer 
can fail to see it in a moment. In all the 
savage and half-civilized portions of the world, 
where our foreign missionaries are sent to 
labor, the forces of evil are in the ascendency 
as they are not here. Sin and wickedness in 
manifold forms stalk a})road. TlK^y are not 
so careful as hero to hide themselves behind 
some, veil of concealment. 

The consequence is that our missionaries, 
especially in the early yeai-s of their lal)or in 
any place, and before they have l)cen aljle to 

4 



50 JAMES n. SCHNEIDER. 



shape society somewhat to a Christian stand- 
ard, do not feel that they can freely expose 
their children to the evil influences about 
them. A system of isolation and seclusion 
has by a kind of necessity to be largely prac- 
tised, that their little ones, with their fresh, 
opening minds, may not see the sights or hear 
the sounds of that noisy world of wickedness 
around them. They are kept as strictly as 
may be wdthin the enclosures of the parental 
nest, where the father, and especially the 
mother, may w^atch over them and guard them 
from these evil contaminations. But this 
system of restraint cannot continue beyond a 
certain period. The growing boy, with his 
restless, active nature, must have freedom. 
His wings are grown, and he must enjoy the 
liberty of flying abroad. The girl can be 
kept longer secluded. Especially in the East, 
where all the habits of society are in that di- 
rection, it is not difficult to keep the mission- 
ary daughters more within the enclosures of 
liome. But neither for the sons nor daugh- 
ters is this seclusion in itself to be desired. 
They need to be at large, where they can 
breathe the free air of heaven, and catch the 



REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. 51 



healthy and invigorating influences of a broad- 
er and more generous existence. 

Hence missionary fathers and mothers, in 
whatever part of the world they may be labor- 
ing, as they see young children gathering about 
them, have to meet the question, What shall be 
done with them ? Hard as it is to be separated, 
the desire for the well-being of the children 
almost always prevails, and they are sent back 
to the early home of the parents for education. 
When we consider all the hazards and un- 
certainties naturally attendant upon such a 
state of things, it is wonderful that so few evil 
consequences have followed, and that the gen- 
eral result of this long-continued experiment 
has been so eminently good. It seems as if 
God had wrought by a special providence in 
behalf of these his servants, who, to promote 
his cause and kingdom, had taken their lives 
in their hands and gone to the ends of the 
earth. When we look over this whole chap- 
ter of missionary history in connection with 
the American Board, reaching on now more 
than half-a-century, out of this long course of 
providence we seem to hear God speaking, as 
distinctly as he spake by word to Abraham of 



52 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



old, saying, *' I will establish my covenant be- 
tween me and thee and thy seed after thee, in 
their generations, for an everlasting covenant ; 
to be a God unto thee and to thy seed after 
thee." 

Many missionary children, it is true, have 
died at so early an age, that no such questions 
needed to be raised respecting them. Over all 
the earth are scattered little graves, where our 
missionaries have laid their young children to 
rest, and gone back to their solitary dwellings 
to mourn without the sustaining sympathy of 
kindred and friends. 

The present Mrs. Schneider, in one of her 
letters a few years since, at a time of great 
mortality among the little children of the mis- 
sionary families in the East, said, '' Over all 
Syria is there a voice heard of weeping, lamen- 
tation, and mourning, Rachel weeping for her 
children." 

But hundreds of these missionary children, 
from various parts of the earth, are alive to- 
day, bearing an honorable part in the activities 
of the world, and not a few of them are back 
in the various missionary fields to take the 
places of their fathers. As has already been 



REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. 53 



stated, many of these missionary sons served 
in the loyal army during the late war, and no 
one of them (we speak of the chiUlren of mis- 
sionaries of tlie American Board), — no one 
of them was found in the ranks of the rebel- 
lion. We make this latter statement on the 
authority of one of the speakers at the late 
meeting of the Board, who from his associa- 
tions ouglit to know, and wlio said, that " not 
one of the children of our missionaries has 
proved disloyal or has had to apologize for 
treason." 

In the spring of 1852, it was felt that the 
time had come when the question of the chil- 
dren must be met and decided. Accordingly, 
Mr. and Mrs. Schneider, with the three boys, 
proceeded to Smyrna. There, according to 
previous arrangement, they were met by tlie 
two daughters, Susan and Eliza, Avho had 
been brought tliither from Constantinople, so 
that the little flock were together again, after 
a three years' separation. From the port of 
Smyrna Mrs. Schneider embarked for America 
with four children, Susan, Eliza, James, and 
William, leaving Edward (or Eddie, as he 
was familiarly called, — not then quite six 



54 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



years old) to return along with his father 
to Aintab. The life of this little boy — as he 
then was — is to be unfolded in the second 
part of this volume ; but we may here say 
a word about the affliction which came upon 
him from this separation, and the story can 
best be told in the simple and touching lan- 
guage of his father : — 

" This separation from his mothei and 
brothers and sisters was most painful to him. 
He was almost inconsolable. After bidding 
them farewell in Smvrna and embarkina: on 
the steamer to return with me to Aintab, his 
childish heart seemed almost to break. I 
shall never forget those sorrowful hours. My 
own heart being full of grief by this separa- 
tion from my loved ones, I was poorly pre- 
pared to offer him consolation. In making 
the effort, I could hardly control my own 
feelings, and felt that I needed some one to 
give me comfort, rather than labor to dissi- 
pate his sorrows. He finally wept himself 
to sleep in his state-room, but a deep sadness 
followed him for a long time. One of the 
jDainful sacrifices, to which the missionary is 
often called, is thus brought into view, — this 



REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. 55 



Beparatioii of parents and children, for the 
purpose of their obtaining an educeition in 
America." 

One fact, very honorable to his own Chris- 
tian patience and fidelity, Dr. Schneider has 
not here mentioned. lie was himself expect- 
ing to come to America at this time with his 
wife and children. Tlie German Reformed 
churches of the Middlp States, then asso- 
ciated with the 13oard, of which Dr. S., by 
race and early associations, was a kind of 
representative, had requested that ho might 
come home for a season, and impart to them 
the lessons of his experience in the missionary 
fields where he had wrought. It was ac- 
cordingly arranged that Mr. and Mrs. S., with 
the children, should come to America about 
this time. After nearly twenty years' absence 
from kindred and native land, it can easily 
be imagined with what longings the heart 
would turn towards home. But the sudden 
death of Dr. Azariah Snuth, and the very 
promising and hopeful condition of things at 
Aintab, made him feel that it would not bo 
right for him then to leave, and he remained 
behind. If the reader will add Una fact, and 



50 JAMES U. SiMlNKTDKIt. 



the feolinu;s naturally urowin^' out of it, to 
what IH*. S. lias above stated, it eau then bo 
understood with what mingled emotions ho 
returned, with his little son, io Ins lonely 
home in Aiuiab. 

Rev. Dwight AV. INfarsli, then returning 
from missionary labor in ^[osul, now at Roch- 
ester, New York, gives the Tollowing graphic 
description of the parting at ):^myrna, and the 
voyage home : — 

'' In the Gulf of Smyrna, with steam on, the 
' Yaporo ' was chafing at her anchors, ready to 
bear Mr. Schneider and his little Eddie back 
to Syria. In Smyrna he had just parted iVom 
Susan, Eliza, James, and William, and their 
mother. He asked me into his state-room, 
gave a lew last charges and prayerful com- 
mendations, stretched out the parting hand, 
then turned and gave way to not unmanly tears. 

'" 1 had boon in his family at Aintab, also in 
missionary confercneo at Beirut, had brought 
Susan and Eliza from Constantinople, and 
now, under God, ho had connnitted them to 
me for the Mediterranean and the Atlantic 
voyage. I had reason to feel a solenm respon- 
sibilitv. 



REMOVAL TO TUTS COUNTRY. 57 



" A few days later, like Columbus, and as 
confident, we started for the setting sun. 
Willi his sisters, who were a few years ohler, 
James shared in good degree those golden 
dreams of tlic Now World whicli, to an Auku'- 
ican child born in the Orient, are visions 
hardly less clear Uian the revelations of tho 
Paradise above. 

" lUit wo had something bettor. Jesus was 
with us hi the ship. When a mutiny occurred, 
just out of the Straits of Gibraltar, and a bloody 
knife was plunged into the breast of our mate, 
did we not seem to sec our Saviour rise from 
his pillow, and hear him say to furious pas- 
sions, Peace, bo still? Wc believe that ho 
anointed the eyes of some of those sailors and 
enabled them to see his glory. James, too, in 
particular, thought that ho then gave liis lieart 
to God. He conversed froely with me ; but I 
was led to think tliat he had previously, at 
Aintab, accepted tlie offers of mercy. How- 
ever that may be, I have no doubt that he was 
then under gracious influences of the Holy 
Spirit, that he folt his lost condition by nature, 
repented of sin, and savingly trusted in tho 
only Saviour of men. 



58 JAMES n. SCHNEIDER. 



" This was to me the great fact of the voy- 
age. God was keeping promise. He answered 
prayers of the fiiithful absent fiither, and 
prayers of the fiiithful present sisters and 
mother. This presence of God with James 
was of itself enough to bring angels down ; 
and for many days they hovered round our 
white-winged bark with tender solicitude." 

They had a long passage of seventy -seven 
days before reaching the land of their fathers, 
arriving here in mid-summer, 1852. James 
was now in his fourteenth year, his birthday 
falling in March. His fatlier writes : ''It 
was during this voyage that he became deeply 
concerned for his salvation. He came to his 
mother in great distress of mind, asking her 
what he should do. The counsel she would 
give him can be easily imaghied. I think he 
'dated his conversion from that period.'* 

On reaching America, there Avere many 
kind hearts to welcome Airs. S. and the little 
strangers. There was the hospitable Chris- 
tian home in Framingham, from which Mrs. 
8. had gone forth, nearly twenty years before, 
in tlie bloom of youth, and where her parents, 
now advanced in life, were still living, and 



nEMOVAL TO THIS COUNTUY. 59 



who were ready to " rejoice with exceeding 
joy" at tlic sight of. a beloved and honored 
daughter, from wliom they had been so h)ng 
parted. Tiicrc was the kind Aunt Susan, as 
the children called her, the youngest sister of 
Mrs. S., and the only one of her lather's 
family then remaining at home. Thickly 
scattered through all the region were the 
relatives, as also the early associates and 
friends, of Mrs. H., — all waiting to extend 
the hand of greeting, and bid lier a cordial 
welcome to her old home. 

Full well does the writer of this remember 
the pleasant sight, wliich he first had, of this 
missionary-mother : full of life and energy, 
with her beautiful group of children al)out 
her, — the two daughters, soft and gentle in 
their aspect and manner, just })looming into 
womanhood ; the two boys, retiring and ])ash- 
ful, but far more hopeful and attractive than 
if they had Ijeen forward and bustling. It is 
one of tliose pictures not easily effaced from 
the memory. With all their exposures to the 
unhealthy climate of the East, with all the va- 
rious hazards of travel by sea and by land, 
death had never entered this family circle, 



60 JAMES H. SCILXEIDER. 



and it seemed like a little garden which the 
Lord had blessed. Though these children 
had not been favored with such opportunities 
for education as they would have enjoyed in 
this land, yet they had been kept under such 
choice Christian influences that there was 
something very pleasing in their quiet and 
respectful demeanor in the presence of stran- 
gers ; and it was easily discovered, by inquiry, 
that they had iised well their powers of 
observation, and were furnished with a large 
share of useful and valuable information. 

The daughters, having never been at Aiii- 
tab, had not been scarred with the Aleppo 
button ; but the two boys, and especially 
James, showed the marks of this singular 
disease very distinctly. There was nothing, 
perhaps, in his conduct and manner, at that 
time, which would reveal the fact that he 
carried witliin him a painful consciousness of 
these scars, — only his modesty and bashful- 
ness were very noticeable. There are a great 
many boys in this country, of about the same 
age he was then, of whom it may be said, that 
if they could be kept modest, could be held 
a little in the back-ground by some such 



REMOVAL TO THIS COUiNTRY. 61 



disorder, all their friends and acquaintances 
would have reason to regard it as a whole- 
some and merciful infliction. 

Soon after the children reached their grand- 
father's house in Framingham, Aunt Susan, 
— the present Mrs. Schneider, — having a 
decent regard for appearances, and wishing 
the young folks to be as . presentable as pos- 
sible, was asking Mrs. S. if something could 
not have been done to prevent these scars 
upon James's face. Mrs. S., whose consecra- 
tion to her work was of a truly heroic charac- 
ter, promptly replied, in substance, " When I 
consecrated myself to the missionary work, I 
consecrated my cliildren, also ; and I expected 
them to share the fortunes of life in those 
places where the Lord should see fit to send 



us." 



The first few months after the return must 
naturally be occupied in greetings and friendly 
reunions. Not only were there many friends 
in Massachusetts, but the kindred of Dr. 
Schneider, in Pennsylvania, must also see these 
comers from the East. There were brothers, 
also, of Mrs. S., with their families, who must 
be visited. It was natural, therefore, that 



C)2 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



some little time should elapse before any sys- 
tematic arrangements would be made respect- 
ing the education of the children. 

For the sake of giving the reader a clear 
conception of the relations of persons and 
places at this time, and thus shedding light 
over the subsequent parts of the narrative, it 
seems best that all formality of authorship 
should be for a moment dropped, and a brief 
and simple statement be made. 

[I was at that time living in Framingham, 
where, from 1844 to 1851, I had been pastor 
of the llollis Evangelical Church, of which 
Mrs. Schneider's family (the Abbotts) were 
members. After leaving the pastoral office 
for my present Avork, I still made my resi- 
dence for several years at Framingham. In 
the spring of 1852, not far from the time 
when Mrs. S. and the children left Aintab to 
return home. Rev. J. C. Bodwell (now Dr. 
Bod well, professor in the Connecticut Theolog- 
ical Institute at Hartford) was installed pastor 
at Framingham. Rev. Dr. Dutton and his 
wife, of the North Church in New Haven, Ct. 
(now both gone to a better world), were 
wont, year by year, during Mr. Dutton's va- 



REMOVAL TO TFIIS COlINTKV. 63 



cation in August, to visit with us at Framing- 
ham. Soon after Mrs. S.'s return, it so liap- 
pcncd that she and her children were invited 
to our house during tlic visit of Mr. and Mrs. 
Button. Out of tliis circumstance, prohably, 
grew tlie arrangement afterward made ]-e- 
specting the education of the two daugliters. 
In Sa:?ionville, a viUagc in the north-east part 
of Framingliam, Rev. ]>. G. Nortlu'op (so long 
the efficient agent of the Massachusetts I^oard 
of Education, and now the Secretary of tlie 
Board of Education in Connecticut) was at 
that time pastor of the Congregational Church. 
The home of the Abbott family was about 
midway between Saxonville and Framingliam 
Centre. Mr. Northrop at once became ac- 
quainted with these children on their coming 
to this country, and has since greatly be- 
friended and aided the boys in their educa- 
tion. His house has been a kind of home 
for them.] 



CHAPTER IV. 

SCHOOL-DAYS. 

IN this chapter wc must pass somewhat rai> 
idly over a period of about four years, ex- 
tending from the fall of 1852 to the fall of 
185G. Many events of great importance, in 
the history of this little missionary household, 
occurred during this period. Ihit wc nuist 
not forget that this is a memoir of one member 
of the household, and our narrative must keep 
itself mainly to the development of the story 
of his life. That which happened, however, 
in his own circle of kindred and among his 
near and dear friends is, in truth, a part of his 
own history ; for his quick affections took hold 
of these passing events with such earnestness 
and tenacity as to shape and control his inner 
life. While we are following him, therefore, 
through these four years, we shall not lose 

(04) 



SCHOOL-DAYS. ()5 



.sight, ol' the important changes and events that 
arc going on around him. 

After due inquiry, for tlie purpose of mak- 
ing choice of a school at Avliich James might 
he advantageously phiced, — the element of 
expense being' one inn)ortant item in tlie 
calculation, — it was linally decided that he 
shouhi go to tlie academy in ^J'hetford, Vt. ; 
and h'vU-e he conunenced systematically his 
c(nirse of study nnd education, nitherto, as 
has been already stated, his education had 
been broken and irregidar. J lis lather and 
mother had done what they could, and the 
result was highly creditable to their patience 
and fidelity in the midst of their pressing pul)- 
lic duties. ]>ut now began the work of thor- 
ough and continuous mental training. 

The two daughters, Susan and l<]liza, were 
})Iaced at scliool at New Haven, at Grove Jlall, 
then, and until recently, under the charge of 
Miss Mary Button, sister of Rev. Dr. Dutton, 
of ilii; North (■hui'cli. 'I'lu; place was every 
way desirable, opening to them tlic amidest 
opportunities for culture and society, and Miss 
T). made the terms so easy and generous that 
the odor was gladly accepted. 



G() JAMES II. SCIINEIPER. 



William, the youngot^t oi' the four >vl\o camo 
to this oouiitiy, was to rotuni io Aintab with 
his mother, when her visit should be eom- 
pleted. She remained in the country not 
far Iroin a year : saw the three older children 
safely and happily located ; visited her own 
kindred and those of Dr. S. : received the j(\v- 
ous hospitality of many Christian people in 
dilVerent sections o( the country, who kuew 
well her works and labors of love : took leave 
of her aged parents, whom naturally she could 
no more hope to see in the tlesh, and sailed 
with her sou for her distant home, reaching 
Aintab in the fall of ISoo. There she found 
au abundance of work awaiting her, '* so 
mightily grew the word of Cod and pro- 
vailed." The Protestant congregation at Ain- 
tab had already passed lar beyond the san- 
guine expectations expressed by Dr. 8. when 
he first went upon the ground, though he re- 
garded the held, even then, as exceedingly 
hopeful. It had come to be numbered by 
several hundreds, and has since increased to 
such an extent as to make a division of it nec- 
essary. 

Ouco at regular study, James discoYcred an 



school-days;. r.7 



aptitiulo lor superior soliolarj^hili. His raitliful 
attoiitioii to his books, (ho aoournoy ol" his 
recitations, and the guiU^ossncss and simplic- 
ity of his manners, soon won tor him tlio high 
regard ot* his teachers. They became strongly 
attached io this lad, who, tar away from homo 
and parental restraint, coiulncted himsolf with 
a manly wisdem and discretion, and by his 
devotion to books showed that he had in him 
the true spirit of a scholar. 

He remained at Thetford about two years, 
when, for certain reasons, it was thought best 
that he should leave that school, and enter 
Phillips Academy, Andover. Here he came 
under the care o( S. IF. Taylor, LL. ])., now 
for many years the head of that celebrated 
institution, and who has had the care of Iitting 
as many young men for college, })rol)ably, as 
any other living teacher in this country. The 
aims of this academy have always been high. 
lu the classical department, especially, the 
discipline has been accurate and severe. 

Here young Schneider found himself upon 
a broader platform of study. He was brought 
into competition with a much larger number 
of minds, and, in anv well-regulated school or 



G8 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



college, this friction of miiid with mind among 
the students is one of the most important ele- 
ments of education. If a young man comes 
to such a place puffed up with family pride, or 
swelling with his own inherent vanity, he is 
very apt to get the conceit taken out of him. 
If he comes bashful and retiring, and finds by 
degrees that he makes his mark among the 
multitude, — readies a high and honorable 
standing in scholarship, — conhdence in him- 
self is imparted, and he becomes master of 
himself and the situation. 

The latter was emphatically the condition 
of young Sclmeider. He did not think better 
of himself than he ought to think. He was 
well aware that his advantages had been few, 
compared with those enjoyed generally by the 
young people of New England. He had a 
very humble idea of his personal appearance, 
and attached an undue importance to the dis- 
figurings upon his face. He needed encour- 
agement rather than repression. Self-confi- 
dence and boldness, which in so many boys 
are in excess, in him were lacking. His life 
at Andover did much for him. It gave him 
courage. His rank as a scholar was so high, 



SCHOOL-DAYS. 69 



even on so large a scale of comparison and 
competition, that he began to feel the use of 
his powers, and to forecast, not vainly, but 
wisely, what he might be and do. 

Rev. Mr. Northrop, who stood to him, in 
these years, somewhat in loco parentis, and 
who understood well what was wanting for 
the development of his best powers, was 
mainly instrumental in effecting the arrange- 
ment by which it was made possible for him 
to enter Phillips Academy. 

As has already been stated, it was during 
his voyage across the Atlantic that the convic- 
tion came upon him of his state and condition 
as a sinner before God, and of his need of 
pardon and cleansing by the blood of Christ 
and the regenerating and purifying influences 
of the Iloly Spirit. It was then, as is believed, 
that he first caught a vivid conception of that 
higher standard of character, revealed from 
the holy law of God, and before which '- every 
mouth must bo stopped and all the world be- 
come guilty." Though young in years, sim- 
ple and guileless in tlie eye of earthly judg- 
ments and standards of character, yet his 
senses were quickened to discern spiritual 



70 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



realities, and lie saw and felt iliat in him 
there was really no good thing, but tliat («od, 
through Christ, was waiting gi-aciousl/ to re- 
new and sanetiiy his soul and phinl in it tlu; 
seeds ol' holiness. 

J hit has one so young and comparatively 
innocent an}^ occasion for such cxj)ei'icnces as 
these? That is what the world often asks; 
but these are tilings that the world knoweth 
not of. The late llev. Dudley Tyng, of pre- 
cious memory, while yet a boy of about the 
same ago of young Schneider at the time of 
his convorsion, came one night to the study 
of his father, — who was engaged in some 
writing that occupied him at the midnight 
hours, — and, stealing quietly into the room, 
when he was supposed to be locked fast in 
shnnbei-, said, ''Father, 1 am so sinful that I 
cannot slec])." Ls there any man whose 
senses are so dull to divine things that he 
argues anything weak and foolish in such an 
experience of a youthful soul and this frank 
confession of it? Can any juan resist the 
conclusion that a soul so sensitive to evil is 
made for noble ends, and that il is already 
beginning to forecast its range and destiny? 



BCIIOOI^DAYH. 71 



Compare an cxpcrioiico liko iliat of tliis child 
— rcvoalin<»; itsull* in this manner in ilio solonni 
midnigliL lionrs — witli the niter thoughtless- 
ness and a|)])arent iiuihility to appreciate such 
IhingH orten seen in boys of tlie name age, and 
will any jnan have tlio audacity to say that liio 
latter is the more liopeCul state and condition 
in respect to character, eitlier for this world 
or another? Nay, Heaven bends willi a lovinj^ 
interiist oviir such a cliild ; and men, bad as 
Ihis world is, in spite of themselves, bend to- 
ward him, drawn by a mimeless charm which 
tliey cannot resist. Young Hchneider had 
these emotions awakened in him when out on 
tlie l(jn(dy oce;i,n, l)eholding " tii<i works of 
Ood and his wondeit? in the deep," and he 
came to his mother with tlio story of ]n"s cojj- 
vicitions. Slu;, wlio had guided so many 
blinded and bewildered souls in '^J'urlcey to 
Die Lamb of Ood, was eminently fitted, by 
grace and ))y exj)erienco, to guide lu^r own 
darling boy — her first-boi-n son — to the name 
precious Saviour. Wo cannot doubt that his 
religious life b(5gan from that j)oint. Su(di 
is his father's impression. Such was his own 
impression, given to tho.se to whom he iju- 
parted these hidden secrets of the soul. 



72 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



But lie was young, and it was well that 
there should be some delay before he made 
a publie profession of his faith in Christ. 
There was more than usual religious interest 
during the time of his stay at Thetford, and 
his spiritual impulses were deepened. An 
advance was made in the divine life. While 
at Andover, he felt that the time had come 
when duty to God, to his fellow-men, and to 
himself, required that he should make a pub- 
lic profession. And it was a nice and delicate 
impulse that moved him, if it might so be, to 
connect himself with the church in Framing- 
ham, of which his own dear mother Avas a 
member, and where she had received her 
early Christian nurture. Application was 
made accordingly, and it need not be said 
that the church most joyfully accepted the 
proposal. AVe will leave to Rev. Dr. Bodwell, 
who was then pastor, and who kindly con- 
sented to furnish a paper embodying his remi- 
niscences of the event, to describe more fully 
this interesting scene : — 

'' I remember well the day on which our 
dear brother, James Schneider, united with 
the church in Franiingham. It was the first 



SCIIOOL-OAYH. . 73 



Sabbath in February, 1850. Many will recall 
that winter as liavin^- been remarkable for 
severity and for deep, diirting snows, vvliieh 
had not melted all away uhen April came. 
The New Year's sacramental service had been 
deferred by reason of the weatlier. A heavy, 
driving snow-storm on the first Sabbath in Jan- 
uary had made it very diflicult for anybody to 
get to church, and there was no service. The 
following Sabbath was a brilliant day, though 
very cold ; but a heavy fall of snow on Satur- 
day had been Idown into such dec]) and solid 
drifts that travelling was out of tlie question, 
and again there was no service. 

" The first Sabbath in February was briglit 
and beautiful, cold and still. The attendance 
at the morning service was large, as it was 
known tliat six persons w^ere to l)e I'cceived 
into tlic church o]i profession of tlieir faitli, — 
all but one l>eing young, — three of them young 
ladies and two young men. Moreover, there 
was a very tender affection for James Sclniei- 
der in the churcli and congregation; for many 
wdio were present on that day remembered 
the time when liis sainted mother had stood 
there, and taken on herself the same solenui 



74 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



VOWS ill the freshness of* her maiden beauty. 
It was also the church of his revered grand- 
parents and all their goodly household of sons 
and daughters. The father of James, the 
Rev. Dr. Schneider, had greatly endeared ' 
himself to the congregation by his interesting 
reports of his labors and his appeals on behalf 
of his people at Aintab. And, what was still 
more, perhaps, a strong sympathy in the cause 
of Christian missions had been awakened and 
cherished in that church by their having 
given two much-loved members to the work, 
— the Hon. Peter Parker and Mrs. Schnei- 
der, — who had labored so successfully in two 
of the most interesting and important sec- 
tions of the great missionary field. 

" The congregation in whose presence James 
Schneider stood up to take on himself vows 
of Christian consecration saw in him, as they 
thought, the future missionary to far distant 
lands. It was well understood that his char- 
acter for native talent and fine scholarship, 
not less than for a beautiful combination of 
modesty and sweet temper and warm affection, 
with a decision and manliness which excited 
respect even at so early an age, gave rich 



SCHOOL-DAYS. 75 



promise of honora})lc service and eminent use- 
fulness in any sphere to which God should call 
him. 

"It was the custom of the church at Framing- 
liam to give tlie full time of morning worsliip 
to the sacramental service, a brief address tak- 
ing the place of the sermon. The congregation 
was frequently larger than was usual on other 
days, especially when members were to Ijc 
received, and no one retired till all was con- 
cluded. When, after the reading of the Con- 
fession of Faith and the- Covenant, the pastor, 
as was his custom, gave to James, in his turn, 
the riglit hand of fellowship, and addressed 
him directly on the great step he had taken, 
there was a breathless stillness to catcli the 
main incidents of his conversion as they were 
interwoven in tlie Ijrief address. Nor was 
there any disappointment. The relation was 
full and clear and positive. God had come 
to him by his special grace in the far-off land 
of his Inrth, and as he was passing over the 
great waters to his mother's home, and had 
wrought effectually in his conscience and his 
heart, making him feel that he was under a 
terrible condemnation ; that the piety of ten 



76 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



thousand fathers and mothers could do him 
no good ; that he could only be delivered and 
saved through the atoning blood of Jesus 
Christ, and by the mighty power of the Holy 
Spirit. He had bowed in humble submission, 
and the peace of God, which passeth all un- 
derstanding, had fdled his heart. He had 
consecrated his whole life to the service of his 
Redeemer, and was pressing onward in a 
course of thorough training for the Christian 
ministry, that he might go back and preach 
the glorious gospel in that dark land where 
his mother's zeal for Christ was consuming 
her last energies, and where she was soon to 
find a grave. 

" No one saw, on that day of his public pro- 
fession, the dark and terrible cloud wliich was 
rising over our beloved country, and under 
whose still deepening shadows the precious 
name of James Schneider Avas to be written on 
that long and mournful list of young, brave. 
Christian hearts so nobly sacrificed on the altar 
of liberty. To that deeply interested congre- 
gation, and, doubtless, to God, who accepts 
the purpose of the heart, that solemn act was 
the consecration of himself to Christ and the 



SCHOOL-DAYS. 77 



cliurcli as a faithful missionary of the cross to 
the heathen." 

It may be added, as not without interest in 
connection with this sacred transaction, that, 
when the communion failed on the first Sab- 
bath in January, for reasons above stated, 
young Schneider was persuaded to remain 
during the week at Framingham, with the 
expectation that the communion-service would 
certainly occur on the next Sabbath ; tliough 
he felt sensitive about doing so, as it was 
term-time at Andovcr. But, when the com- 
munion-service again failed, he went back to 
Andover, and made another journey to Fra- 
mingliam, to l^e present on the first Sabbath 
in February. 

This was in 1856. About one month from 
this time. Dr. Schneider started from Aintab 
to make his long looked-for and longed-for 
visit to this country, after an absence of 
twenty-two years, bringing back with him 
William, and leaving Eddie again to spend his 
days alone with his mother as he had before 
done with his father. Mrs. S. again had the 
offer of coming home ; but as her visit had 
been so recently made, and such pressing du- 



78 JAMES IT. SCTINRTPlTv. 



tics ami cares, of n public nature, calKul for 
lier ])resencc at Aiutab, she, of her owu IVco 
Avill, decided io reuiaiu and superintend the 
Avork duriiii;- her liushand's absence. Dr. 
Schneider reached this country in due course; 
and not lar from the time lie set foot upon his 
native shore, as alterwards a})})earcd, Mrs. S. 
sickened and died of one of the malignant 
fevers o( the East, leaving Eddie, now ten 
years old, ^vithout father or mother, brother or 
sister. Trouble of no ordinary character had 
come suddenly upon this little, scattered 
household, hitherto unbroken by death. Ed- 
die, though alone, was not alone. The Chris- 
tian Armenians hovered around him with their 
sympathy and care. Other missionaries wero 
near. ]>ut it was thought best that he should 
go to Constantinople, and be in the family 
of Dr. D\vight until his father's return, and 
this ]>lan was carried out. So matters stood 
in the fall of 1850. 



VALW'TFAl V, 

COlAA'Ali: LIFE. 

IiNT lSr>(;, young ScliiKiidor DnislKid liis couriSO 
ill JMiillips Academy and entered Yale 
College at the age of seventeen. Jiis father 
j-(;aehed tliLs country, as already hitimated, not 
long hefore, and lejoiced greatly at what he 
Haw and heard <>{' .iamcH. 'J'hci (jiilet and 
inod(;st lad with whom \\(t ha<i [carted ui Ain- 
tah, foui' y<;ars h(;foi"o, had grown into the 
form and proportions of a y<ning man of [)uro 
and excellent character and fine jiromise, })otli 
intellectually and sfiiritually. Wherever he 
liad lived, ho had left behind him warm and 
earnest friends, and now he was passing on 
to the larger theatre of a college lilo'. The 
faithful missionary, returning to his home 
after so many years' absence, and seeing how 
kindly his children were cared for, — his 
daughters at New Haven, and his son now to 

(79) 



vSO 



JAMKS U. SrHNKlPKU. 



uiko up his rosidoiu'O ihorv* uiuliM- luo^i la- 
Yorablo aiispioos, had oocasion to (cc\ ihai 
i^od was inilv taithful to his promise, " I will 
bo a IuhI to tiuw and [o thy sood aftor thoo." 

It Nvas not until a month or nioro at'tor his 
laudiuir that the sad nows from Aintah oould 
roach Or. S. in this oountrv. It was a hoavv 
blow to him and tho lour ohildron horo, n\ ho 
romomborod thoir mothor's prayers aiul oouu- 
sols with devout atVeetiou and gratitude. 

It had been the original intention at Aintah, 
so tar as any detinite plan had been lormod, 
that .lames should be ediu-ated at Amherst 
OoUeLi'e, as involvini;' less expense and as bo- 
iuLi' his lather's alma niatir. Ihit the preseneo 
of his sisters at New Haven and Mr. Noith- 
rop's [>artialities tor Vale eolle^e had ei'mbinod 
to make an ar^-ument in favor o( the latter in- 
siitutiou, and Pr. S. had oonsented that his 
sou should be ediu'ated theiw 

James's class, at the time ol" the issue of 
tlie lirst eaialoLiaie, numbered a huiulred and 
thirty-four, — a lari:e elass, and yet not so 
largo as several that had preeeded it at ditVer- 
cnt times, or as some that have sinee followed. 
His class at u'raduatiou numbered one huu- 



COLLVAiK UVK. Hi 



\,\\u.h cA'dHUf^H id Vale UHually do. 

'J'hiH n;latio/j of f.h'; i'mu] or ^na'Juatinj/ 
murjbor to Uk; (;nj/;n'jjj/ iiu/nf><;r, i/i tlio vari- 
onH claKWjH paHhing tljrough ^aic or oth^jr col- 
\<'4r/'/iy I.H a fiorr)^;wljat ij)f/;ro<5tIn^ subject for 
hludy. In Dio clahh of J8^i(i, at i^alo, Ujo 
uu/fibcr oil hidvatic/i wan lar^^^;r fljan irj any 
})rcvIoiiH year, — one liundrerJ ajjd t,hjrty-five ; 
l;iii the claHH graduate'J only jjjnety-threo. J/i 
the da^H of I808, Ijje entering number wa» 
oiie huDfJred au'J f,hirty-<^jven, and tJie gradu- 
idlh^/ ii\uti\)<:r ju'.t one huud/ed. Tlie cla8» 
of l>,^n eute/ed -.vith oue hundred and fifty- 
four, and \£VixiUvdU'A hut one liundred and nine. 
'I'hin, Ijowever, wan in i\\<: lime of the war, 
and tliat. douhth>;H, made a differenr;^;. Jt i« 
Heldorn that a ela:-.'-; keepH the gra^Juating 
rjumher n';arer to the entering num^x;r than 
did tiie ehtHH of 1800, of whieh Hchneider wan 
a memher, — indieating that the Ktahh; el^>- 
nientH were prenent in an hxrge a degree*, eer- 
tainly, an nnuai. 

I'lie number given oji the firnt eatalogue 
afUir entranee in ahnoht always likely t^j be 
greaU;r than at any other point in tlie hiht^jry 



82 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



of the class ; but it docs by no means includo 
all the persons who will bo numbered with the 
class in its progress through the institution. 
It almost always happens that individuals 
come dropping in through the whole of fresh- 
man year, who, by reason of sickness or for 
other causes, could not be present at the open- 
ing of the course. Then, at the beginning of 
sophomore year, quite a number, — sometimes 
ten, fifteen, or twenty, — who have been pre- 
paring themselves for that year, preferring to 
pursue the freshman studies elsewhere, come 
in in a body ; and, on through sophomore, 
and even junior, year, there will still be addi- 
tions, one by one. It is no uncommon thing 
at Yale for a class, that has had on its list 
during its course two hundred different stu- 
dents, to graduate not more than one hun- 
dred. Generally, the graduating number is 
not very much more than one half the whole 
number that have had some connection with 
the class at some stage in its history. 

The causes operating to thin a class down 
after this manner are many and various, — 
ill-health ; irregular habits, bringing the stu- 
dents under discipline, and at length suspen- 



COLLEGE LIFE. 83 



sion from college ; want of mental capacity or 
application, so that the student falls below 
the necessary mark in scholarship ; changes 
in the condition of parents, by which supplies 
have to be cut off, etc., etc. A boy who is 
poor, and who has in a large measure to en- 
gineer his own way, is about as apt to go 
through as any one. His habits are likely to 
be more regular and systematic. He has a 
great purpose from the start, and this steadies 
him. If a rich father happens to fail or die, 
his son in college, as he has not been trained 
to rely upon himself, will very likely have to 
abandon his course of study. But the poor 
boy (blessed be nothing !) has no one to upset 
his plans by failing or dying. He rests back 
upon the everlasting rock of poverty as his 
unfailing support. 

The history of young men here in New 
England (and they arc to be numbered by 
thousands) who have gone through our col- 
leges without knowing afterward how they ever 
found their way through, sometimes gets writ- 
ten out, but more often goes into the silent and 
unwritten records of the past. But hope and 
courage arc strong in young liearts, and they 



84 



JAMKS II. iHllNKlPKU. 



arc not il:niutc\l by dllViouUios siirli as would 
utiorly blook tlio \k\[\\ o[' tho (iiuul and irroso- 
Into. Bosidos, it is ovor a {>loasing sight, nvIiou 
a yoiinu,- man oi' piiro I'liarai-'tor and aotlui::,- for 
iioblo ends is ^wmi oncountoriuL;" siu'h cU»staolos 
and manfully ondoavorini;- to o\ oroouio thoni ; 
and thoro aro almost always kind ami u'on- 
erous luwrts that aro moN\\l with sympathy, 
and loud a lu^lpin^- hand, — a littlo horo and 
a littlo thoiv. Almost all our foreign uus- 
sionarios and thousands (A' our nunistors, liv- 
ing and iload, havo boon tln\nigh thoir collogo 
course after this tashion. 

Young Sehneider entered Vale Oollege on 
this [u-ineiple o( laith and trust. I lis tather 
would do all that was in his j>ower to do : but 
the small treasury at Aintab was not adequato 
i'ov expenses like these. Some money nuist bo 
borrowed, to be paid by teaehing when his eol- 
lege eourse should be completed. Some uion- 
ev must be earned in such times and ways as 
rrovideuco should open. The Kdneation So- 
ciety Avould gladly alVord its measure o[' aid 
\o the son, as it had done to the father befv>re 
him, and kind friends would be raised up, 
who wmdd lu^lp him lift and ruistain the bur- 



(UHA^IML LIVE. 85 

In; w<;ijL (\\vi;cA\'j f'o/v/Ji/'J wit.lj Jji« college 
coiii'Hc, aud hoou cJiifj'; l,o Uke a hUiikI among 
the very (h'ht Hcliolarn lit hiH cIubh, U^n'. i>r. 
DiiLtoj), whohe liouKO wuh near tlie college, 
and waH, a?? lho^^5ands can Uihlily, the home 
of open and g^^nerouB hoHpitallty, for a year 
gave hini his f^oard. OU'iern helj>ed In varioug 
wayH. And ho 1,1 j'; hlll-i of diriieulty were 
hrougljl iov/, and Uio rough placeK were made 
h/nooUi hefore hinj. and he went on IjIh way 
joyfnlly, wil.h ;j.1I t.h<; glow and ardoi- of ihe 
gejjiiijje :.l.ijd';nl.. f'or liinj, :j;, foi* thoufiandft 
hel'ore hii/i, hi;-; college life wa:s eminently 
happy, lie nyoiced in it and wan glad. 
Here he was forming companionHhipK which 
only d';ath could Kiinder. Here he wan layujg 
hroad and deep the foundation for a life of 
extended uHefulncHH. Ass a «tiident, he l>ore 
liimHclf well, maintaining a \cA-y high rank 
from tlie heginning to the ejjd of hin courKC. 
Ah a Christian, he f>ore himnelf well, and 
found a large held for activity. He was here 
during the great revival in the winter of 
1857-S, whejj the college wan ho powerfully 
Hhaken,and which renulted in niakin.'j; a larger 



86 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



proportion of the under-graduate students in 
the institution professors of religion than at 
any time before or since for a long course of 
years. 

At the time when James's sisters, Susan 
and Eliza, were placed at school with ^Miss, 
Dutton, in New Haven, it so happened that 
the two sons of Rev. H. G. 0. Dwight, D. D. 
(so honorably known for his long and able 
missionary service at Constantinople, and so 
lamented when called away suddenly by 
death), were in this country for the purposes 
of education. The elder of the two, James 
H. Dwight, had graduated the very summer 
when these daughters of Dr. Schneider reached 
the country, and immediately commenced his 
theological course at Union Theological Sem- 
inary, where he graduated in 1855. The 
younger, AVilliam B. Dwight, was at that time 
a member of the junior class in Yale, graduat- 
ing in course in 1854. Pie then pursued his 
theological studies at New York, graduating 
from Union Seminary in 1857. The children 
that had played familiarly together in Turkey 
were now, after several years of separation, 
brought together again in this land of their 



COLLEGE LIFE. 87 



fathers. It was but natural, from all the rich 
and precious associations of the past, that, 
meeting thus, far away from their early home, 
they should be deeply interested in eacli other. 
That might have been, and there it might 
have ended. But it was destined to be other- 
wise. The renewed acquaintance and friend- 
ship ripened into a deeper affection, and, in 
the course of a few years, Susan Schneider be- 
came the wife of James 11. D wight, and Eliza 
Schneider the wife of William B. Dwight. 

In novels, things arc made often to adjust 
themselves as nicely and harmoniously as this ; 
but they seldom do in real life. Every one 
felt that there was something beautiful in such 
an arrangement. Parents and friends and 
outside observers all felt like breathing a 
blessing upon so happy a union. A short 
time after their marriage, their residence was 
at Englewood, New Jersey, where Rev. James 
H. Dwight was, and still is, the pastor of tlie 
Presbyterian Church, and Rev. W. B. Dwight 
was for some years at the head of a school. 
We shall find, in the later parts of our narra- 
tive, that many tilings date from Englewood, 
and the above will explain the reason of this. 



88 .lAMKS H. Si'llNHlDKW. 



AVe Avill pvesently give a few extracts from 
the letters o( James, "written during this ])e- 
riod, whieh will hel]) in some measure to un- 
fold his thoughts and feelings during his lite 
at New Haven ; though we have in our pos- 
session comparatively few of his college-day 
epistles. We have ahundant materials of this 
kind illustrative of the years that passed after 
he left college, and, as the interest of his lite 
so concentrates ahout this later period, we can 
atTord to pass somewhat ra}udly over these 
college years, which, though tilled with that 
which intensely occu})ied his time and his 
thouglit, were not materially unlike those of 
other earnest, faithful, Christian students pass- 
ing through the same course of study. lie 
very much endeared himself to his instructors, 
to his fellow-students, and to all ahout him. 
He was in vigorous health, and ahle to endure 
the labor and conlinement of the course with- 
out injury. He came to the end of his college 
course ranking, notwithstanding all the disad- 
vantages of his early life, as the third scholar 
in a class of one hundred and eight. 

It was during his college course that his 
father went back to Aintab. He remahicd in 



COUA'J'.E LfFK. 81) 



tills coiiiiiry two years, mont iisofiilly em- 
ployed in laboring among the churches and in 
visits to various religious bodies, both in New 
Englanrl, in the Middle States, and at the 
West, in this way lie helped to diffuse abroad 
valuable missionary intelligence respecting the 
work of God in the Turkish Empire, and thus 
increase tlie missionary spirit of the churches. 
He returned to his home in the East in the 
fall of 1858, when James was entering tif>on 
his junior year. A short time before his de- 
parture, he was united in marriage to Miss 
Husan M. Abbott, the youngest sister of his 
former wife, who, liy her education and ear- 
nest Christian character, was well fitted for the 
high and honorable position to which she was 
chosen. The only circumstance which made 
this decision painfid to her was the fact that 
she must leave her mother, — a widow far ad- 
vanced in life, and to whom she had been for 
many years a constant companion and helper, 
and especially so, since her father's death, 
which occurred only a few years before. This 
made the question a trying one. But as other 
members of the family were willing to assume 
this responsibility and care, and as the judg- 



00 JAMES W. St^HNKIOKU. 



niont o( hor rhristiaii tViomls strongly soc- 
oiulod hor oNvn clesiro to i;\\ slu» nmmiI ; but 
^\\[\\ the iiiuiorstanding* th:H sho sluniKl riMiini, 
at no distant ilato, io visit Iut niotluM-, it* sho 
livoii, ami comfort hcv ilorlininu,' iia\s. 

Vv. S. roturuoil to iho soiMio o( his labors, 
uitli tlio Ibolim;- that tlio four ohihiriMi loft 
bohind ill tliis c'oinufv woro all passiuii; on io 
dilations ol' honor and iiserulnoss. 

In his vai-'ations Janios was naturally nuioli 
at Franiinghani ; and tho in)prossions ho was 
thoro niakinti' upon juH^plo may bo uathorod 
from a briof oxtraot tVoni a lot tor whioh wont 
Iroiu Framiuiihani to l>r. Huttoii in Now Ha- 
Yon. Tho follow iui>: is the passage roforred to: 
— •• In tho tow linos whioh T wrote you the 
other day, I tbrii-ot to mention, what 1 had in- 
tended, how mueh our people wore pleased, 
last Sunday evening, with some remarks which 
James Schneider made in our meeting, and 

with the [u-ayor which ho olVered It 

was a very hirgo meeting tor us, and Schnei- 
der's remarks were so (piiet and gentle, and 
at the same time so full oi' feeling, and so 
much to the point, that peo}>le listened with 
breathless attention. Tiio house was very 



coiAj'jii: I Mi:. 91 



fitill. I lliijik lic in [r()\\\'^ lo inako an fidinlra- 
f)J<; inUJi." 

His h/ollioi' \Villi;un,* who liit'J j*<;l.ii)-n<;'i 
Willi \)i-. H. l,o tJiis country, vvaH Jit lliiH tiiac 
at, Willi lo)i Aoa'Jciny, IviHtJiarrijjton, and Micr<^; 
Ik;, loo, ;i , li': liofjd {Jn<i l>fdi<;v<;'i, liad f;Xj>c- 
rl<;n<:<;<l llio i<;ncwing </i:iCM of Ood upon liis 
|j';;i.rl,, ;ujd waH paHhinp^ on HurjccHHfully in liJH 
couihc of education . 

it was during' tlio juonlJi of fobruary, 18^>0, 
tijo lant year of .iarfjch'n oollo^/;'; lifo. that IiIb 
oldest Hihtcr, SiiHan, wifo of li.<tv. JarncH Jf. 
I)\vi;/ht, waH called ;iway. Jt wu'i the firnt 
hreuk in the circle of the childien, and was a 
Had affliction to the whole houehold. U\h 

* Wc «li;ill not :i\utit\il U> Inuj: niitiui'Jy the life of tlii)* 
l;ioUi':r, aii'l y'», tor tli<; hak<; of iijv'Ki'/ 'KiarnftKH to our tuir- 
rativtj, it iH rux-dful to «tttU;, that, after finihliin;^ l)i« studicH at 
Eu«iharni»toii and Aridovcr, he \v<:rjt to W.'inhitijrlon to l>© 
ctnjJoy'-d in the hojspitah of that oity. lU-nt he wa« taken 
hick, afi(J hroii;.;lji. near the honlerH of the grave. After a 
lorij^ ill(ie«>5 and a hIow recovery, he studied cMiiUK-j'.nrii!, and 
in Septernher, 18fi'J, he^atne third a«Hihta/it cnj^incer on hoard 
the war-ve«Kel Calypwo. He wa)i afUirwarda promoted U) \fQ 
Hccjjtul iWKiistant, and «till laU:r wan tranKfernj<I to the Koan^ 
oke, wliere he refnained until after the clone of the war. In 
the HutnuifiV of IHfi.'i, he renij^ned, and ix now fitting hirnKCJf 
for the huHinewH of mining engineering. 



92 



JAMKS II. srilNKlPKK. 



sister Kli^'.a (^Mrs. V.. \\. PwightV in a ivoont 
letter, says : — *• Susie clied February U>, 
ISoO. Her death made a very sireui:- iuipres- 
iiiou ii[HM\ , lames. His ^ real auvl loxine: heart 
>Yas stirred to its very depths ; and tVoui that 
time his piety was ol' a lii^her order, and his 
advaueemeni in the Christian eourse marked 
and proiZ'ressive." 

In order to show N\hai was passiuL:; in his 
tlunmhis during- his oolle^e Hte. we will now ' 
euU, iVom his loiters wriiien at that period, u 
tew hriof exiraeis. It will be seen by ihese 
varied e\pressiv>ns, uttered in perleet freedom 
to his sisters, that, while lie was an earnest 
and growinii' t'hristian, he was by no means 
an aseeiie, but had in hin\, in larue n\easure, 
the sport and play ol" youth, ^^'e will not 
attempt to li\ exaet dates to these passac'es, 
Init ^vill cive them somewhat at random, as 
illustrative of the ojKU-ations o[' his mind from 
ISod to lSiU\ The exlraets are taken from 
letters sent to his two sisters, sometimos to 
one, and sometimes the other, until after 
Susan's death, and to Kliza whon sho was loft, 
alone, hi one o( these letters he says : — *• Tre- 
luendous exeiiement in town ti>-niiiht ! 'I'he 



(J)\AsVJn. IJFK. 



lawt campaign Hfj't'jf-li';:-; liavf; fK^on jn;),'J';, — - j.hfj 
l;i, I, piiM)'; Ij.r. lol'],- f,li'J;i',f, .'j.|>fj';;i.l .'i/JfJr<;SHf;fi 
l,o 111'; (;oiiHcI(;ji';'; f'if ; li'; \\'<V: '-ywy ) of" ^'ori- 
Ji';''-li':iil. VVm of" <-/)\\'-//(; '.iffy ih\,('A-t'/rX<:<\ ; hOfno 
of ij'-i ;i.ro <;vf;ii in;i.'j'; vof,'5f-. I ;un u, vo/rrr; 
;i,ii'l if I (Jon'f, c/.iX my vol/; f"o/' liuokiuffljJifn, 
witJi \)i\<\t- '.ui<\ ii)'Ji;ni;ilion <:')iiiui\!i<f\<'j\^ Ujon 
J ;iin not, iny;,';lf'." 

1)1 oiio of" Ill's <',()\\ (•//<', vacuf-ioiiH, lio vv';iit 
out, wilJi HOifi*; oUi';f r<-A'\'-(\(>\i': hUi'J'jjif/-;, frnfh- 
oriii^'- l';u;tH an l.o lli'; rolif/iouH cfHi'JitJf^n of 
llif; l,ovvnH ill (/Oiiijf;f'liciif,. '\'\\</n<'. y<>mi'/ iii<-n 
\Vf;f'M in ill'; HOrvic; of lli'; ^^;nf;)-;j,l A'!:o';i!i- 
l.ir>ii of Ui'; Htaio. II'; li:i'J li';:i.r'J i\r.d llio 
fC4n<>u !i:-;si;';fi(;'J l.'j liiin \v;i.:; j"i.l.lif;r iinattraf> 
IJv; ior llii:-, kin'i of" hi.hor. 11'; writCH: — 
" 'J'liJH r;oiiiil,y rwli';ro li'; was ii<>'\iiu')-) tJioy s.'iy, 
Ih rouj'li. :i.ii<l fli'; [j';'>pl'; li;i.i'i ;ui'] li';;i,IJi';iii;Ji. 
Hill .'I, f(;ll'>w I,Ii;i,I,'k h';';n iii vMnlaJ), iJJi'i li;id 
y.loiicH vvliiz/iiif.'; Iiy liis cai'S, c/.m pj-'j^ahly ';ii- 
(Jiir'; (;'jiiHi'l<;r;iljl<; in IJh; \v;i.y of" r<)Uf/.\i l,r';;it- 
ji)';iil,." 

II'; is 'I';: )r'>iis of jriJikiii;.^ a c';j'faiji j'jiij-ii';y 
f"oi- j)lf;;i,siir(;.^ in oii(; of IiIh vacatloiiH ; ijiit li'; 
]i;is i() r';;i:;oii l,li'; ';;j,s'; t,o liis HistcrH lo justify 
liiiMS(;lf, ill l,li'; jii;il,f';r (;f" OAj»f;ii.S';. " Duf l';f UH 



94 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



consider the matter. I have been in colleo'e 



G' 



nearly three years. All that while I am not 
conscious of a single extravagance. Shall I 
not be allowed a little freedom now ? I know 
little of mankind in general, and womankind 
in particular. I shall soon be out in the world. 
Ought I not to be acquainted with its ways ? 
Don't I need to go into society ; and will not 
an excursion into the midst of strangers, and 
yet refined people, be beneficial ? Even in this 
utilitarian point of view, it seems to me that 
this proposed visit presents attractions that 
are Avorthy of consideration." 

To Eliza he writes : — "I was greatly re- 
joiced to get your letter. I had been long- 
ing to have even a word from you, but 
hardly dared to hope for a note, knowing 
how busy you were. So I contented myself 
with picturing in imagination, how you 
looked, and what you w^ere doing, — Char- 
ley* now yawning, now stretching, now tak- 
ing music-lessons, now performing optical 
experiments in estimating magnitudes and dis- 

* Tlic little child, here and elsewhere spoken of, is the dear 
babe, left by his sister Susan, when six or seven days old, 
and now kindly adopted and cared for by Eliza. 



COLLEGE LIFE. 95 



taiices, now given to the bottle and clinging to 
it as the staff of life. Oh, the clear little 
chick ! wouldn't I like to kiss him ? . . . . 
The precious little sage has doubtless brains 
enough in that capacious head of his to build 
a Turkish republic out of; but he wisely re- 
mains incog, at present I need 

hardly tell you that the reality and greatness 
of our loss (in Susie's death) are becoming 
daily more apparent ; and weighty sorrow 
sinks deeper and deeper into my heart. Scarce- 
ly an hour passes biit I think of dear Susie, 
and countless objects and incidents bring her 
before my mind. Her memory I cherish with 
growing attachment and respect. God and 
heaven are much nearer to me now, and a dif- 
ferent light seems to be cast over the world. 
I am far happier than I have been and far sad- 
der, too, — happy when I think of the joys 
of heaven, and of meeting mother and sister 
there, and sad when I revert to our bereave- 
ment." 

Again he writes on the same topic : — " Last 
Sunday I read some of Susie's letters. Oh, 
what a dear, loving sister there was ! Every 
line bears the record of her overflowing love. 



06 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



1 never felt her loss as I do now, but I did not 
like to tell you of my grief, because I knew 
you had enough of sorrow. Study takes up 
my attention ; but when I get a moment to 
think, my thoughts fly to the single grave at. 
Englewood. Can it be that Susie lies there ? 
I hope to kneel beside it in a few weeks. 
.... Wont you save something of Susie's 
for me as a memento ; also a lock of her 
hair ? " 

His commencement is drawing nigh, and 
he writes to his sister: — " Are you coming? 
For your own sake I should be delighted to 
have you come, and you would certainly be ben- 
efited by the trip ; but if you are coming sole- 
ly on my account, I will readily excuse you. 
My piece is a dry metaphysical production, and 
probably will not be understood, even if lis- 
tenecl to, by more than fifty people in the house. 
It is my first attempt at genuine public speak- 
ing, and I very much fear you would be dis- 
appointed. It will be over, too, in twelve min- 
utes or so. How dear Susie used to look for- 
ward to this time ! Wont it be sad for you to 
come alone ? " 

We might multiply these extracts, but must 



COLLEGE LIFE. 97 



forbear. They are taken simj)ly from his let- 
ters to his sisters, because we have not ac- 
cess to letters written elsewlicrc during: this 
period. 



'fc> 



CILU^TER VI. 

HIS%CONNECTION WITH THE NORMAL SCHOOL AT 
BRIDGEWATER. 



WHEN young Schneider had completed 
his college course, it was necessary for 
him, before studying theology, to engage for a 
time in teaching, tliat he might cancel the debts 
incurred by his education, assist his brothers, 
and obtain the means of linishing his own 
course of study. Fortunately, Rev. ^Ir. North- 
rop, connected as he was Avith the State Board 
of Education in Massachusetts, had it, in a 
measure, entrusted to his care to fill a vacant 
place in the Bridgewater State Normal School, 
and in his judgment, and in the judgment of 
others having knowledge of the facts, Schnei- 
der was just the man to fdl it. The result 
abundantly justified this opinion. He writes 

(08) 



AT jmiDGEWATKIl NORMAL SCHOOL. 99 



from Saxonvillo, to liis sister, Saturday even- 
ing, Hcptemhcr 8, 18G0 : — 

"Di<:Aii Lizzie, — Hereafter you will please 
to address mc as First Assistant rrineii)al of 
tlie State Normal Seliool at IJridgewater. Arc 
not my wildest hopes realized now ? . . . . 
TJiis is anotlier jjlessing. My college life was 
prospered by Ifeavcn, and now my entrance 
into life is bi'iglitened by a new l)enignity. I 
am riglit ba])py to-nigbt. J)o you tliink it 
strange ? Sus})ense is not very pb^asant. ''Jliis 
position is just what 1 wanted, — one involving 
not gcneralsliip l)ut study. I enter upon iny 
duties upon tlie 10th, and meanwhile shall })c 

getting ready (xood-night. A happy 

and peaceful Sabbath to you. 

" Ever yours, 

"James." 

With his habit of d(jing everything thor- 
oughly, so soon as lie had received tliis appoint- 
ment, and before entering upon its duties, he 
spent the interval in daily attendance upon 
the Normal School at Framingham, and in a 
visit to the one al Salem, tbat lie might study 



100 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



the methods and modes of instruction in such 
institutions, and be prepared to enter upon his 
work intelligently. He was to receive a sala- 
ry of nine hundred dollars a year for his ser- 
vices ; and to a young man, who has been 
struggling with poverty all the way through col- 
lege, the thought of such an income lifts a great 
burden from the soul. Alluding to some help, 
which had come just before from an unex- 
pected quarter, he says: — "What could be 
more fortunate than Mr. Kelker's generosity ! 
Oh, how glad I am ! Now Willie and I can get 
along nicely till the end of the term, and then 
I hope to have some money that I myself have 
earned." He says again : — " Next Monday I 
go to Bridgewater. Now once more for hard 
work. This year I expect will be far more 
busy than any I have yet lived, and I hope 
you will see some improvement in your broth- 
er, as the result. I cannot help thinking my- 
self highly fortunate in getting such a posi- 
tion." 

He entered upon his work, at Bridgewater, 
with thankfulness in his heart toward God, 
who had so kindly watched over and provided 
for him thus far, and, with a deep and solemn 



AT BRIDGEWATER NORMAL SCHOOL. 101 



purpose to do his duty. After lie had been 
sometime engaged in his work there, he writes 
to his sister: — "These have been weeks of 
intense but happy work, and I find myself in 
a peculiarly happy frame of mind this morn- 
ing." 

TVe have reached a point in his history, 
where we have it far more in our power, than 
in the previous parts of the narrative, to illus- 
trate his life and modes of thought and feel- 
ing from his own letters, and we propose in 
this chapter to make free use of this material. 
But as dates, in such a connection, are of com- 
paratively little value to the reader, we shall, 
except in special instances, omit them. 

Alluding to the work to which he had now 
set his hands, he says : — " We are to have a 

full school and plenty of work 

I feel most uncomfortably sometimes at the 
thought of the responsibility resting upon 
me. May God keep me from giving a de- 
fective form to the education of any of these 
minds.'* 

Again : — " There is no end to the skill to 
be exercised in bringing out the energies of 
the variously constituted minds in the school. 



102 JAMES ir. SCHNEIDER. 



The best test of tlic teacher is his success in 
stirring up the dull scholar." 

In the fall of 1861 he writes : — '' One 
thing troubles me. I have been at Bridgewa- 
ter till I have much improved, and can now 
teach five times as well as at the outset. And it 
seems that the school ought to have the advan- 
tage of this tuition, which it has itself be- 
stowed, xind then having begun to be a 
teacher, I don't like to stop till I am a profi- 
cient in it. But my plan is to study theology 
next year. How and when, God will direct." 

Again he says : — "I begin to wish that I 
were in my life-work. I don't want to keep 
breaking up old associations. Unconsciously 
we become attached to places and people ; and 
man does not relish being transplanted, any 
more than trees. To give your energies to 
one pursuit, and then change their direction, 
is not strengthening. It is very hard for me 
to make up my mind, though I am resolved to 
begin the study of theology, unless a different 
course is plainly pointed out. I wa»t much 
to make a fine scholar. I think I lack a prac- 
tical turn of mind. I am much attached to 
this place, and to leave it will cost an effort ; 



AT BRIDGEWATER NORMAL SCHOOL. 103 



but I can do it. We are very mucli what 
circumstances make us. How good God has 
been to me in this regard ! What miglit I not 
have been, thrown as I was upon myself, in a 
new workl? Why have I been so securely 
protected from temptation ? " 

His religious life was greatly quickened 
here at Bridgewater. From various expres- 
sions in his letters, some of which have been 
quoted, it was evident, about the time of his 
leaving college, and for quite a period after- 
wards, that he felt the stirrings of earthly am- 
bition, and was greatly tempted to abandon 
the plans of his earlier days, and give himself 
to scholarship. But he is coming now again 
to higher and nobler views of life, as the two 
following extracts from letters will show : — 

" Last night we had a joyful prayer-meeting. 
It was the last of the term, and gratitude to 
God, for the precious hours we have spent in 
that room, filled all our hearts. I am very 
glad we did not give them up when our num- 
bers were so small. They have done us much 
good, and resulted in one or two conversions. 
Two weeks ago, God seemed to hide himself, 
and though I prayed, I did not seem to have 



104 JAMES II. SCIINETDER. 



access to liim. Now he comes to me again, 
and 1 am luipin'. We all have such expe- 
riences, 1 think." 

April 27, 18G"2, he writes as follows. We 
give this date as marking an important era m 
his religious experience, and in the purpose 
of his life. 

" The conflict is over, and the question is 
decided. I am resolved, by God's help, to be 
a minister, and that, too, a missionary. I have, 
on my knees and with tears, thus given my- 
self to God. Tliis is my resolution, and 1 
shall adhere to it, unless future events plainly 
point to some other path. I have reasoned 
thus about the matter. First, what is the 
principle upon which I am to decide the ques- 
tion ? Of course my object is to be, to do 
good. How, then, can I do the greatest good ? 
As a missionary ? Yes, I think so. For this 
reason : I am fond of study and thought ; but 
if I give myself up to some work which will 
admit of this, and stay in this country, my 
ambition will, I am afraid, carry mo away, and 
I may become a selfish, useless man. But if 1 
am a missionary, ambition is at once crushed 
out. But what if the work be really and nat- 



AT imiDCKWATl'jIl NORMAL HCIIOOL. 105 



urally distasteful ? No, it shall not be, if 
[)rayer can i)reveiit it. God, 1 hope, will givo 
ino ^lace. And do you thnik he will so order 
events as to thwart my most natural desires 
and tastes ? No ; ho will not let me suffer in 
that way. I can trust him. He may be in 
tliis way trying my faith. I will give myself 
to tliislium))le work, expecting nothing, aiming 
at nothing more. And if God, in his provi- 
dence, finds work for me other tlian this, I will 

gladly accept it 'i'liis, 1 say, is my 

decision. I sec no reason to cliange it. I 
have written to Mr. Northrop, asking his ad- 
vice, and await his answer. But I think he 
will advise this course. What my immediate 
duty to my ))rotliers may be is a question. 
Eddie is coming over. It may be necessary 
for me to work for them longer. 1 will cheer- 
fully do it, if it is my duty, though I wish to bo 
at my life-work. God will direct. 1 am feel- 
ing better, much calmer, happier." 

In his own thought, at the time he formed 
the full purpose to ])CCome a missionary, it 
was apparently settled that this decision would 
involve his retirement from Bridgewater, in 
order that he might enter at once upon the 



106 JAMES H. SCllNEIDER. 

study of theology. lie had, however, an after- 
thought, that his duty to his brothers, and es- 
pecially to Eddie, who was coming over to be 
educated, might require him to defer for a 
season the commencement of his theological 
studies. On conversing with his Christian 
friends upon this point, while they heartily ap- 
proved his purpose to become a missionary, 
they thought, both for his brothers' sake and 
for other reasons, he might remain awhile 
longer at Bridgewater. He was very useful 
there. He was greatly beloved both by his 
fellow-teachers and by the pupils. He was 
exerting a happy Christian influence upon 
many minds. The Spirit of God was in the 
institution, and souls were converted. For all 
these reasons he decided to remain. 

When he communicated his purpose to be- 
come a missionary, to his father, there came 
back from Aintab the following glad response. 
The letter is dated July 30th, 1862 : — 

"Another source of joy to us was your de- 
cision to become a missionary. It was what I 
had all the time desired ; but I wished you to 
make the decision from your own interest in the 
subject, and not by my arguments. I do re- 



AT BRIDGEWATER NORMAL SCHOOL. 107 



joico tliat you have como to this determina- 
tion, and tliat you seem to be so lia})py in it. 
This very fact seems to show that you have 
taken the proper course. I have no doubt 
that you will be quite as happy, if not more so, 
in the missionary field, than you would be in 
America. I have no doubt that I have ex- 
perienced more real satisfaction in my work 
than I should have realized in America. And 
then you will, with God's blessing, be in- 
strumental of more good. You will find an 
abundance of scope for all the talents and ac- 
quirements you possess. In translating books, 
or teaching in some of our seminaries, your 
scholarship will all be called into requisition, 
should you be introduced into this sphere. 
No kind of talents and no degree of attain- 
ments come amiss. I have often wished I 
knew everytldn^^ and had all history at my 
command, both sacred and profane ; there 
arc times when all comes into play. And then 
a knowledge of the physical sciences is often 
very desirable, in all their minulice. A taste 
and tact for language is, of course, very impor- 
tant to the missionary. I think you love the 
languages. That is well. Cultivate that taste. 



lOS JAMKS n. SCHNEIDER. 



But YO\i need not be anxious on the point 
of how you may employ your attainments. 
Aequire all the knowledge you ean, and 
commit your ways to the Lord, and lie will 
direct you into the right path. And when 
you are ready to come out to this country, be 
assured you will receive irom us a most hear- 
ty welcome. The Lord order it all in great 
mercy. I have no doubt that He will do so.'* 

But amid all his thoughts aiul plans there is 
another subject which begins to press homo 
upon his conscience and heart. 

In a letter, bearing date Aug. 5th, 18()2, he 
says : — •• 1 feel much about the war. I almost 
want to volunteer. I want to do some good, 
and there are so many noble fellows that are 
giving themselves up, that I want to be among 
them. One of my classmates, a fine fellow, 
died in the hospital the other day. I am li- 
able to be drafted at Bridgewater. Duty ! let 
mo do my duty.- ' 

In the August following ho says : — '^ These 
late fearful battles ! How many atllicted and 
cast down now ! God, have mercy, and for- 
give ! My heart aches for these bereaved and 
sufierins: ones. What can I do for them ? Is 



AT BBIDGJSWATKii KOliMAL SCHOOL. 109 



this a ihnc. to }>c anything ebc than a man? " 
Aud again; — "I am fcoling really sober 
to-night. Ill the first place, this war troubles 
me. J begin to think the nation is in a 
bad way, and needs my attention. I have 
thought of this matter seriously, and do not 
consider it my duty U) go at present. There 
may come a time when tliere will be a more 
urgent demand, and then I may feel it my 
duty U) go. HtJlJ the question comes up." 

His brother Edward has now reached this 
cou/jtry, aud the sense of duty t^jward liim has 
mucli to do in making him feel that tjje time 
has not yet coine for hlrn to join the army. 
Ife felt greatly the responsibility thrown 
upon Ijj'in, hi ilie care of tliis young brother, 
who as yet had enjoyed very few advantages 
of education, and was moreover impulsive in 
his temperament and liable to be easily led 
astray, ivlward was placed in a school at 
liridge water, that he might be near his broth- 
er, and enjoy his oversight and assistance. 

in the montlj of October James writes: — 
" Eddie, 1 think, may be a comfort to me, In- 
Btead of a Imrden. Jle is affectionate and 
graUifiil, and Ijriglit when he has a mind to 
study." 



110 JAMES ir. SCIINRIDER. 



Ill tlio midst of all his other cares ami du- 
ties, as his letters show, he is engaged in solid 
reading, that he may store his mind with the 
higher thoughts of the race. 

'' I have read ahout Bacon lately, ami am 
wishing for a little of his wisdom and wealth 
of thonght. I have heen waiting a long time 
for some grand, inspiring thonght to como to 
me, hut it does not make its appearance. I 
think I cannot be a genius. I had no thought, 
at Phillips Academy, of overturning the 
Hamiltonian system of Philosophy, as Bacon 
did of snbverting the Aristotelian system of 
Logic, when at Cambridge. ]>ut, o])isodical- 
ly, I have jnst fonnd a book which I have 
long wanted, and that written, too, by Bacon.'* 

The following extracts, too, will show the 
current of his thonght : — 

" What a delight it must be (o watch 
the unfolding of a mind ! As much as it is 
to watch a budding plant. What are we ? 
What mysteries ! 1 wonder how wc shall 
look u})on each other and ourselves in another 
state. Shall we laugh at our notions of this 
lower state ? You know how one feels, when, 
after working at a problem, and solving it, as 



;\T I'.lilDdKWATi'Jl NOIlMAL KCMOOL. Ill 



he HUpposcH, ]\f' fjnfjs liiiijsoir (entirely niis- 
takoji, and foolislily mistaken. l*oor pliiloKf>- 
pliers! AVlial a shock to llicir sensitive na- 
tures llie revelations of llie next world will 
prove I 

" I am in Mr. IJoyden's study tliis evenin^^. 
lie and his wife have gone to attend the i'u 
neral services of* a consin, wlio di(;d jji one of 
the recent Ijattles, and tliey wislied me to 
come and stay vvitli tlio }>oys. Oh tliis war ! 
IIow dreadful ! Jt jnakes one sick. 1 want 
to go and do sometliing. I'm afraid 1 am 
too selfisli, though I try not to be. Ihit I feel 
very solder and earnest. 1 mean to be indus- 
trious, ',u\(\ do all tliat is iji njy power. This 
is no time for self-indulgence. I do wish to 
have some part in this great war, — this grand 
era of history, '^i'o look on as a spectator 
seems very Ijelittling. Ihit 1 must he patient, 
and woik in my liumlde Sfjhere. 

" Yoi] notice Avhat father says about my 
studying. I think that nothing that 1 acquire 
here will come amiss. Then there will be so 
much satisfaction in having a well-rounded 
education. Surely, are we not preparing for 
heaven by cultivating our muids? 



112 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



" I feel very happy. I think I am doing my 
duty. I love God more, I hope. I love my 
scholars and my work, and I love the heathen 
and my coming work. My mind and heart 
can expand together. To-day I shall get a 
harmony of the Gospels by Robinson. I 
want to study the life of Christ." 

Eddie, who, he thought might prove a com- 
fort to him rather than a burden, in the early 
months of his stay at Bridgewater, was really 
a heavy care and responsibility, and James had 
many anxious thoughts respecting him. lie 
was impulsive ; was perpetually restless, with a 
longing to be old enough to join the army ; 
had not yet learned how to study ; so that 
from the time of his arrival, on through the 
winter of 1862-3, he added largely to his broth- 
er's burden. But James labored with him 
faithfully and bore with him patiently, and 
soon had the satisfaction of seeing a better day 
dawning. In the spring and early summer of 
1863, there was a revival in Bridgewater, which 
took hold of the fbung people gathered there 
for study, as also of the community at large, 
and, on June 9th, James writes to a friend : — 

" Eddie i^ mo.st thoroughly under convic- 



AT BRIDGE WATER NORMAL SCHOOL. 113 



tion. I talked witli liim wliou we were walk- 
ing together. I may have done wrong. I 
tohl liim that, in order to become a Christian, 
he must be wiUing to give up everything to 
Christ, — tliat he must even give up the army. 
It brouglit him into a fierce struggle. lie said 
lie would give up everything l)ut the army. 
He says he wants to give up even that, but 
tliat it is very liard, and lie cannot do it yet. 
He became most morljidly depressed in feel- 
ing, and wished himself dead. He feels hap- 
pier this morning, and is going to the prayer- 
meeting, and may take part in it, in discharge 
of duty. Not only pray for liim, but write to 
him, please. Noon. — Eddie is feeling much 
better. We went to the prayer-meeting, but 
there was no meeting, no notice having been 
given out. He is willing to do his duty I think. 
I am quite confident he Avill be a Christian. 
Can wo ]je thankful enough ? I am very happy 
to-day ; conscious of weakness, and yet strong." 
Two days later ho writes : — " I'm so happy 
in Eddie. I really tliink he is a Christian. 
He seems a new boy. He was never so gentle, 
obliging, courteous as now. lie seems to be 

8 



114 JAMES IT. ?rTTM-:ir»ER. 



Avilling to do anything that (uni shall roqiure 
of hin\." 

l>ut Avo nmst turn baok lor a moniont to 
soniething whioh l>clont;s to an oarlior ilate. 

As already stated, when JNIrs. Selineider 
went out to Aintab, in 1858, leaviuL:,- her aged 
mother behind, it was with the understanding 
and pledge that she should return t\>r a visit 
at no distant date. The time has passed 
quickly in our narrative, but nearly live years 
have gone sinee she left the eountry. About 
the middle of >hiy, 18l)->, she landed in 
Boston. James hears of it at l>ridgewater, 
and writes at onee : — •* Aly precious mother, 
I want to lly to you Happily my va- 
cation commences next Friday night." But 
hardlv had she reached the count rv and taken 
a hasty glance at her New England iVicnds, 
when a message reached her from Carbondalo, 
Fa., which called her thither at ouco. Her 
mother was living there with a grandson, Rev. 
Benjamin il. Abbott, the Episcopal minister 
of the place, lie and his sister residing with 
him had gratefully remembered the kindness 
and care shown them, iu their own ciu'ly life, 
when left orphans in the world, and they 



AT lilUOOEWATKll NOIiMAL SCHOOL. 115 



Jja'J k)n<lly itivilf;fl tlif;ir ^a"aiifiinotli(;r, iu IJi*; 
WCaknOHK uii'l rf;<;fjN;ii^;;;s of licr old Ji^;, to 
if);i,ko li<;r liojfjf; vvitli tJi'^iri. Slio lia'i ju'^t 
willi ;i. fall, wl)i';li li;uJ ;-;f;fioii:,l'/ iiijufod liof. 
TIiIh lia[)|>OM(MJ ;i.lrrjost at tlio very tiin'; wlif;ii 
Mi'K. S. HCt foot upon our hliorfis, and 1i';)h;o 
llio Rii(J(J(;ii irKjHHagc calliij^ lifjr l,liitlif;r, wli'iro 
8lic rornaliicd iinlil licr inotli(;r'H cJcatli, about 
tlic first of Augufst. 

Kddio'H conversion, it will l^o rorncmbored, 
waH aftor Mrs. S. landed and wont to (Jarl>on- 
dalo. On tlio 20tli of Jihk;, .Jamos writoH 
lior : — " VVliat will you nay an(J think wlion you 
lioartliat Kddie iw a (Jhrihiian ? Jt h (UxVh 
doing, and it in marvollons in our (tycH. I think 
lie is sincere, and that he is truly conveit<;d. 
You would think so had you :;cen the Ktruggle 
which j>receded it. He did not want to give 
up the Ji.nny ; hut I told him, unless lie was 
willing to give up the army, m ca>?c (Jod de- 
manded it of kin h^ he could jiot he a (Christian. 
Jt waH almost too jnuch for- him ; hut he finally 
submitted, and is now at f)ea(;e. 1 hope fjo, at 
least. 1 trernhle sometimes, however. IVay, 
pray for him. My heart's best love to dear 
good grandmother; tell her i wish J could do 
something to contribute to hej- comfort." 



itr. 



.1 AMKjA 11. SCUNKinKU. 



Ill his loKors to Mrs. S. lu^ usually :uKlrossos 
hor, as '* My iK\ir Auulio." lu oui^ o[' his lot- 
tors ho says: — *' I am !.;'oiuL!: io oall you so, 
Nvhou I spoak to y^ui by yoursoll": hut l>ot"oi*o 
otliors 1 \N ill oall vou uuMhor; vMhorwiso (hoy 
Nvill (hiuk itstrauivo, Aunlio isa luuoh iloaror 
uaniv' Nvhou I spoak to yv>u, anJ my lovo to you 
tlows nuu'h moro roadily through that uauu\ 
Now vou do not uiisuuvlorstand mo, — do 
you : " 

Ihit UONV, t'or uiany u\v>nths, this war quostioii 
has boon soriouslv troubliuiV him. lb* oanuol 
t|uito ilooido.uniloi" all iho oiroumstanoos oi' tlio 
oaso. aiul ai^ainst iho \\ islios oi' tViouils, thai it. 
is his duty to ;!,^^ ami yol ho ^(aluls in iloui>t, 
auil wishos to do his duly. And now tlio limo 
draws uoar I\h* a dooisiou. llo is about to 
oloso his third yoar at Ih'id^owator, and doos 
not intond to roturn. It" ho doos not ;;"i) into 
tho army, ho will vMitor ujhmi his thoolo^ioal 
oourso. >bu'oovoi-, a dral'l is oomini!,', and ho 
is disposod to tako that dooisiv>n as an oxpros- 
siou o[' tho will oi' (hnl on tho L;roat quostii^ii at. 
Issuo. duly llth howritos: — "Tho draft in 
this town oomos otV noxt Monday . 1 stand ouo 
i'oui'th ot' a ohanoo. What shall 1 do it* I am 



AT i:i'ji)<;K\v\r\:u noumai. r,cirooL. 117 



called V Shall I j'o ? 1 (,l,ii,k 1 ilmil. K, '.vill 
H<;(!in like .'J, ':;i.ll IVoiu ^;'>'l. . . I (, -.viil not 'io 
loi- (;v<Ty )ii:ui l,o ui.u.y ;j.\v;j.y. . . Will uuy oue 
Hiiy \.\\ul l,li(; principle;-; id ntake sue iiol, woilfi 
rjj.';l)ljji;'; foi', or iJml liin life i^j loo vulu;i.l>le vvlieti 
put, he: i(lo l.lieni ? The w;i.r jn;iy eojjl.iuue 
i(i;i.ny y<;;u'::. 1 tn'.iy jievef r,ojrie haek. O <^/ofl, 
kIiovv rue (Jk; wny. Help ine lo r<;el my 
(July. . . M;ike jne (Jo thy will. .So 1 je:-:1,." 

At Uie clo;-;(; oT a lell,(;r, wjiUeii .iiily r.)lh, he 
Bays: — '* I hliall kc(;j> l,hi:; o[jeii till ahoul, l.he 
time the inail elosen, ho a:, lo lell y<;ii, if po;i:-i- 
Ijle, wlwjUicr i um e;ille<i or not. ' 

" [JMUcripLj i aui called. (;od will:-; it." 



CHAPTER VII. 

ENTERS THE ARMY. ORDAINED AND BECOMES 
CHAPLAIN. 

THE year of the scliool, at Bridgewater, 
closed not far from the time when young 
Schneider was drafted, making the full period 
of his connection with that institution just 
three school years. 

Tlie step he was now taking was a momen- 
tous one, and he so regarded it. It was no 
hasty and ill-considered decision. He had 
pondered over this subject for months, — had 
struggled with it, as all his letters abundantly 
show ; and in coming to the conclusion which 
he had now reached, never did a young man 
bow more reverently and obediently to the 
sense of duty, to the voice of conscience, 
against all the siren whispers of ease and pleas- 
ure and self-gratification. It was his pro- 
found conviction that duty summoned him, 
and he must go. 

(118) 



BECOMES CHAPLAIN ^N THE ARMY. 119 



Indeed, it is rare, that a young man is called 
to make such a decision, with so many influ- 
ences tending to hold liim back. There was 
one, now dear to him as his own life, to whom 
he was betrothed, and who looked forward 
with him to a missionary life in Turkey, not 
as something to be shunned if possible, but to 
be sought with eager Christian joy. He loved 
her with all the strength of a pure, uncontami- 
nated soul in the fresh ardors of youth. That 
love was too strong and too honest to be con- 
cealed. It comes out, as from a pent-up foun- 
tain, in all his familiar letters to his near friends. 
Then, just at this time, he received an ap- 
pointment to a tutorship in Yale College, — a 
place which, under other circumstances, he 
would most joyfully have accepted. Nothing, 
seemingly, could have been more fortunate for 
him, just at this time, than to have gone back 
to Yale in this capacity, where he would have 
been brought into associations tending to a 
large general culture, — would have been able 
to pursue his theological studies, and have 
been on pay as a tutor at the same time. It 
was a sore trial to say No, to an offer at once 
so honorable, so pleasing, and so convenient- 



120 JAMES tl. SCHNETDEU. 



Thou he knew the wishes and hopes of all 
his near friends, lie knew how patiently and 
longingly his father, lionoreil and heloved, 
was waitina: for the dav when this dear son 
should come hack to Turkey, to he assoeiated 
^vith himself in missionary work. 

All these things are to he considered as 
powerful motives additional to the natural re- 
pugnance which a studious and highly culti- 
vated mind like his would feel to the rough and 
boisterous associations of the camp. For, be it 
remembered, when he makes this great decis- 
ion, it is not with any definite military ofticc on 
honor in prospect. lie is drafted as a common 
soldier, and it is with the lot of a common sol- 
dier in view, that he adds that brief postscript, 
"I am called. Cod wills it.'' 

From Valatie, New York, where he is visit- 
ing at the house of his uncle, Alexander Abbott, 
he writes to his lather: — 

" My dear FATiiErw, — You have long 
looked for this letter. You have heard that I 
go to the war, and wish to know my reasons 
for a change of plan so complete as this. In 
tlio first place, then, I do not go to the wai* be- 



I}KCOMi:h rjiiAi'i.AiN' IN Tin: AicM'/. J 21 



cause I liavo lost iny intorcBt in ilio missionary 
work. On llio contniry, I lovo that work 
niorf; stiongly and naturally, and anticipal^i it 
will) (;nt]»usiasni. 

" ] do f/() 1,0 11 10 wai-, because, first, I was 
drafUjd. 'I'lio lot loll ni>on mo. Ood, who 
marks the sparrow's Tall, guides tlie slip of pa- 
per that falls from the revolving wheel. I am 
called. 'JMiis is not a sufficient reason, hut 
then it throws the hurden of [iroof on me. 
Secondly, our army needs njen of intelligence, 
hut, ahove all, of jnoral principle. There are 
not men enough in the army of such character. 
'J'he good that such men can do in the army is 
incalculable, and not second in importance to 
the missionary v/ork. Lastly, 1 made i]i(f 
question a subject of pniyer, and tried to do 
eide conscientiously. 1 fc-el now that J did 
decide as my conscience dictated. 1 had the 
assurance that I was dohig right, it was the 
most painful question tliat I have ever de- 
}>ated. Whichever way I should decide would 
involve hardship and trouble, i have given 
myself uj) to the work. I shall try to live use- 
fully, and if 1 am called to die, I shall dio 

cheerfully Your aft(;ctionatc son, 

"James.'' 



122 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



Surely here is a decision that must wiu the 
respect of all serious and thoughtful minds. 
Such calm obedience to the simple idea of 
duty, when so many influences appear to turn 
the heart aside, is noble and heroic anywhere. 

Not very far from the same time, he writes 
from Saxonville : — "I had a good talk with 
Aunt Susie (his mother) this morning. She 
does not think I ought to go. But it is only 
because she loves me, and can't part with me, 
that she talks so. It is painful not to have the 
cordial support of all my friends ; and still I 
feel that I am in the right."* iVgain, he 
says : — " When I listen to the dissuasions of 
my friends, I hear, way down in my heart, a 
Voice which says, — Be resolute. You are 
right. God Avill shield you." In a letter to 
Mrs. S. he says : — " My precious, dear Auntie, 
shall I forfeit your priceless love by going to the 
war ? I am sure I do not go from false motives. 

* It may be mentioned hero that after these talks with 
James, Mrs. S., in conversation with her friends, used to say, 
that she could but be astonished when she saw such perfect 
consecration on James's part to the idea of duty. There 
seemed then to be such a ripeness for heaven, that she could 
not but tremble through fear of his early departure from 
earthly scenes. 



BECOMES CHAPLAIN IN THE ARMY. 123 



I shall try to do good, whatever may be my 
work. I thhik God has given me this work." 
Ill another letter, about this time, we find the 
following : — "It is not my pride that leads me, 
I know. It is a sense of duty. I am right 
and thank God. If I am wrong, God forgive 
me ; I intend no wrong." 

On hearing of his grandmother's death at 
Carbondale, he writes to his mother : — " God 
has been indeed very gracious to us in sparing 
dear grandmotlier until you returned, and so 
were able to minister to her comfort and 
consolation. How peaceful and sweet was 
her death ! How rapidly is our family in 
heaven increasing ! Edward, or I, or both 
may be there soon." 

Nor far from the same time, he writes 
again : — "I have sad news to tell you. 
Dear little Willie, Eliza's birdie, has flown. 
He breathed his sweet life away this (Monday) 
morning at five o'clock." 

He feels the painfulness of parting with 
dear A., and knows how sad it is for her; 
though she, too, with the same high sense of 
duty, will not complain, or seek to hinder. 
To his mother, he says, in the midst of this 
conflict of feeling : — " She is the most blessed 



124 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



gift, I was about to say, that God could bestow 
upon poor me. Oh, God is good." In another 
letter to his mother, he says : — '' 1 hope we — 
.A. and I — will be a great comfort to you 
and father.^* And in a letter to another : — 
^' I cannot tell you how precious A. has become 
to me, — never so precious as now.'' 

All this sci-ves to remind us that there are 
those who stay at home, and yet sutler as 
keenlv and exhibit as true a heroism as those 
who go. Thomas Buchanan Head, in his 
stanzas entitled ^' The Brave at Home,'* has 
beautifullv and touchinii;ly set forth this idea : 

*' The maid wlio biiuls her wnrrior's sash 

With smile that well her pain ili:;sembles. 

The "Nvhile beneath her ilix^oping lash 
Cue starry tear-clix)p hangs and tremblos. 

Though Heaven alone iveords the tear, 
And Fame shall never know her story, 

Her heart shall shed a di\>p as dear 

As ever dewed the field of glory. 

« 

" The wife who girds her husband's swonl 

Mid little ones who weep or wonder. 
And gmvely speaks the cheering word. 

What thougli her heart be rent asunder, — 
Doomed nightly in her diw^ms to hear 

The bolts of war around him rattle, — 
Has shed as sacred blood as e'er 

Was poured upon a held of battle. 



BECOMES CHAPLAIN IN TilE AliJsiY. 125 



*' The mother who conceals her grief 

When to her breast her son she presses. 
Then breatfies a few brave words and brief, 

Kissing tlie patriot brow slie blesses, 
Willi no one but her secret God , 

To know tlie pain that weighs upon her, 
Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod 

Received on Freedom's field of honor." 

As wc liavc already said, at the time he was 
drafted lie had no definite idea what his place 
or lot would he in the army, but by the sug- 
gestion of friends, his own impulses moving 
him in the same direction, he presented him- 
self for examination at Washington, that he 
might be assigned to some place in connection 
witli one of the colored regiments then form- 
ing. After the examination had passed, he 
writes to his mother : — 

"Washington, Aug. 27, I8G.3. 

" Deae Auntie MoxifEii, — I have passed ex- 
amination, — a severe one, — and am appointed 
second lieuUinant. I should have had a higher 
position had I known more of military. I now 
go home to f^udy and await orders. I shall 
go up to Valatie for a few days. I am thank- 
ful and well pleased. In haste, 

" Your own Jamie boy." 



126 JAMES 11. SCHNEIDER. 



lie writes to another friend more fully about 
this examination : — ^' I was examined this 
morning, and did very well on the civil part, 
but had poor success in the 7nHitary tactics. 
. . Gen. Casey (in private) expressed himself 
highly pleased with my ' scholarship,' advised 
mo to go at once to studying, assuring me 
that I would soon be promoted. They ex- 
amined me in Arithmetic, Algebra, Geometry, 
Trigonometry, Chemistry, History, Geography, 
and ' Casey.' I made them open their eyes 
wlien I was sent to the board. It was a little 
exciting, but it assures mo that a thorough 
education never comes amiss. The examiners 
noticed the very points that we dwell on in the 
Normal school, — sharpness, accuracy. Any 
kind of knowledge does one much good in the 
struggles of life. I only value more highly all 
that I have acquired. . . I meet with men of 
great intelligence at times, and it is a rich 
treat to be in their company. Gen. Casey 
seems to be a well-informed man, and is very 
courteous withal." ♦ 

At the time young Schneider entered the 
army, the process of forming colored regiments 
was going on vigorously. The 5-4tli and 55th 



BECOMEH CHAPLAIN IN THE AKMY. 127 



colored regiments from Massachusetts had gone 
out durhigtho previous spring and summer, — 
the first StMe regiments of colored men whicli 
liad been organized. But United Statics color- 
ed regiments were forming, and the 2d U. H. 
colored troops, was now nearly completed, and 
was encamped on Arlijigton Heights. 

The colonel of this regiment was Stark 
Fellows, who graduated at Dartmouth College 
in 1802, and very soon after joined himself to 
the 14th regiment of New Hampshire volun- 
teers, and held the olhce of first lieutenant in 
Co. n. \n the fall of 1802, this regiment wan 
ordered to Washington, and, during the winter 
and spring. Lieutenant Fellows, with a section 
of men under his command, was engaged in 
guard duty in the city. Here he attracted the 
favorable notice of public men, for his soldierly 
bearing, his promptness and efficiency in the 
performance of his duties, and Wiv the strict 
order and decorum of the men under him. 
He gave himself, too, in all his leisure hours, 
most earnestly and assiduously to the study of 
military science and tactics, and in the summer 
of 180-5 presented himself before the Board of 
Examiners, to try and obtain the office of 



liiS 



JAMMS 11. SCIINKIDKU. 



ni;ijt)r, in sonio oolonnl ro!;inuM»(. 1 1 was ii 
long vsto[) iVoni I'lrsl lioudMiaul (o inajor, and 
\w [\':\vcd (ha( liis jM"»>j)Osal luijrlil 1h* ri\u;anKHl 
us sonu^what aiuhu'ious. I>ul to l»is surpriso, 
alien* passing oxaiuiiialioM, lio rorc^ixtul a noi(\ 
iVinii sonuMMio arliuii, lor llu' boaril, assuriiii; 
him Ilia! lio had boon ioo inoih\s|, aiul Ihat 
(ho olhco (>r ooh>iu'l woiiKl hi* !.;i\(Mi him, 

111 (ho Atljulaul (uMioiars r(*|)or(, Now 
Ilampshiro, \o\. II., p. iOS, wIum-o Iho history 
uf (ho Mill N. II. loivimoiit. is givon, (hisiuador 
is thus noliooil : - - 

** 'J\vo olVu'ors of giHMl oxoidhmi'o prosonh^l 
(homsohos (o Cumi. Oasoy's l>oar(l, in Iho sum- 
mor o\' IS();>, lor oxamiiialiou I'or oommissions 
ill ooh>ro(l rooiiuoiils. 4Mioy woro Major Sam- 
iiol A. Ihnu'au autl b^irst laouloiian( Shirk 
l'\^Uows. ln)(li j>asso(l (ho hoard as ooh)nol, 
(ho lirsl who had passod (o thai j;'raiU* in a 
luimhrr oi' hinidroils oxamiiuMJ, and woro 
soon c'ommissi()nod lo now roginunils, \cvy 
inuoli rogrodod ami rospiu'lod in (ho rogimoid. 
ihoy had loft." 

Col. Follows was al (his tiino hu( (wonty- 
tliroo yoars of ai;i\ 'Pho inslanoos wore ^ow^ in 
our army, whoro so young a man roooivod so 



ItKCOIMliM ("IIAI'IiAIN IN 'riir; AKiMY. 121) 

hi{.';li ;i, (',(>iiiin;iii(l. \Uil Im; \v:im >i.(ltriir:iMy (iU 
li'.d (or hi:; ()l;ic('. Of liiM! |)('rf.oii;i! ;if»p(;ai'n.ii(;(j, 
(>r |)l('.;t,!;iii«'; iidflrc: .",, willi ;i m;iiily mikI KoMici'ly 
hcniiiii';, lie, knew liow (o win I In; love ;in(l r<;- 
spcf'l, of (,lii!f;c, liiiiiiliie coloi-cd men, yen,, l.o hind 
Ihe.ni |(» hinis(;ir us wiUi hool;;i (»(' !,(<',c,l. 'I'ho 
n,l,l,n,(jhnienl, ol' llin Hohh'c/i'H <A' llie lid (I. S. col- 
ored rej'inieni, (o llieir yoiin;'; eolomd wjis <;x- 
I Diofdin.'iry, ;ind ori(Wi fpoken of in neWNpajM'/rH 
iind juiv.'iio led.l.e.i's. 'I'lie, following \>iiHH\i^()y 
givin*-', iJie; siil)shiiiee, of ;i jtoilion of a hielnro 
hy (!ol. .1. \V. Iliy'dnson, who alio i'A>ii\- 
inanded a eoloicd re.Miineid, Umj IkI, Soulli 
('ar-olina,, will <',\liihil-, in some in(!aHnr(r, what 
(/ol. P'eJIoWH' iJionj'hl.s and lejdin;':; a,nd niodort 
of a,el,ion were in liiH new ponilJon, a.nd will 
CXJ»la,in l,h(5 philosophy hy wliieli In; hound 
ili(;M(5 men so eIos(dy l,o hiniiielf: — 

"Ah aj)ro(ae,(; l.o hin address, (JoloneJ III<';<Iii 
Hon <'.,\pla.ine(| (Jial army li(<; in a hlae,k i'<igi- 
me,n(, w.'is nol, i/v<'.:d\y nnlike army lile, in a, 
while, re,;dme,nl,, and ;i. hhiek soldier did nol, 
dider veiy mat(;riaJly IVom a, whil,e soldiei- ; yet 
(,he,y ha<l Uieii* jM5(ailiariti(!H, wliieli were nol,ie(;- 
uhlo l,o l,he ohs<wver. II''- iJien ipoke of iJio 
(jonriision of evcsrylJiin;.'; l,o him when ho h(;^;aii 



130 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



tlio life ; the perplexity lie and bis brother 
officers experienced in trying to distinguish 
individuals in the crowd of dusky faces, — to 
know Adam from Apollo, Sam from Pompey ; 
and then, too, the trouble in learning the age 
of these men, — the world's eternal children, 
who neyer looked young or old: none of them 
had any idea of their age, and the enlisting 
officers were left to decide the matter by guess- 
work. Their qualities of heart, head, and hand 
were then considered by the speaker. It was 
with the lieart that the officers first came in 
contact. The colored race are naturally de- 
monstrative, and arc like children ; they feel 
towards their officers, if treated right, as the 
child towards the father. Tlie liberties with 
superior officers that are repressed in the white 
soldier, because they lead to familiarities that 
are dangerous to discipline, are allowed in the 
black. The qualities needed to command a 
colored regiment are like those needed to com- 
mand a wjiite regiment, — energy, common 
sense and self-control ; if he has these the work 
is essentially accomplished. Force or severe 
discipline should not be used so much as per- 
sonal affection shown. These men, having 



BECOMES CHAPLAIN IN THE ARMY. 131 



})ecn accustomed to severe treatment, are 
quickly influenced by kindness, sympathy, and 
respect. They will obey much quicker if ap- 
pealed to than threatened." 

This regiment, to which Schneider was as- 
signed, already numbering about nine hundred 
men, was encamped on Arlington Heights. 
The whole formation of it had been under Col. 
Fellows' superintendence, and he had shaped 
it according to his own idea. It was something 
noble, at that time, for young men to step for- 
ward and put themselves into direct connection 
with these black men. There were many to 
sneer and laugh ; but a crisis had been reached 
in our national affairs, and the nation has reason 
to rejoice that so many, in spite of all sneer.s 
and ridicule, were ready to discern the " signs 
of the times," and act 'promptly. 

James Russell Lowell has well and beauti- 
fully said : — 

" When a deed is done for freedom, through the broad earth's 

aching breast 
lluns a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on from East to 

West ; 
And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul within 

him climb. 



132 JAMES H. SCHNEIDEU. 



To the awful verge of manhooil, as the energy sublime 
Of a century burst full-blossomed on the thorny stem of Time. 

" For mankind are one in spirit, and an instinct bears along, 
Ivound the earth's electric circle, the swift flash of right or 

wrong ; 
Wlictlier conscious or unconscious, yet humanity's vast . 

frame, 
Through its ocean-sundered fibres, focls tlie gush of joy or 

shame ; 
In the gain or loss of one race, all the rest have equal 

claim. 

" Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, 
In the strife of Truth with Falsehood], for the good or evil 

side ; 
Some great cause, God's neio Messiah, offering each the 

bloom or blight, 
Parts tlic goats upon the left liand, and the sliccp ujion the 

right. 
And the choice goes by forever, 'twixt that darkness and 

that light." 

It was on the 22d of September, 18(33, that 
Schneider began his life in the camp, and in a 
letter, written September 24th, we have his 
first impressions : — 

" Camp Casey, Va., Sept. 24tli. 

" What a new experience I have had, 
and how much I coukl tell you about these 
two days iu camp ! I am here on Arlington 



BECOMES CHAPLAIN IN THE ARMY. 133 



Heights, in a beautiful position, commanding a 
view of Washington, Georgetown, and the 
river. I was kindly received here by the colo- 
nel and officers, all of whom are gentlemanly, 
and three or four college graduates. 

" Our colonel is a graduate of Dartmouth, 
a fine man, only twenty-three years old." 

When he became connected with the camp, 
the question of who sliould be chaplain was 
up for consideration, and almost immediately 
the thought arose somewhere (we do not know 
who originated it), why sliould not Schneider 
be chaplain ? 

At the time of his examination, promotion 
of some sort was promised, and there was a 
thought of making him adjutant. 

Under date of September 28th, only six 
days after he was in camp, he thus writes : — 
" I was called to the colonel's tent to talk 
over matters. Ho spoke of the adjutancy, 
and asked about my voice. He spoke about 
the chaplaincy, and my obtaining a license to 
preach. I would like the adjutancy, but I 
question whether it is not my duty to be chap- 
lain. Another puzzling question. I have 



134 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



«* 



prayed that God would determine it for me. 
I am really puzzled about this matter. But I 
will think and pray." 

About the same time he writes : — " Do you 
know what has led me to seek the chaplaincy ?• 
I tliink I can do more good so. What an op- 
portunity ! Think of being the religious in- 
structor of nine hundred men ! Then to have 
the opportunity to speak to them, or ratlicr 
teach them, on week days." 

In due time the chai)laincy was given him, 
and he came back to Massachusetts, — to 
Bridgewater, where he was now best known, — 
and a Congregational council was called to 
consider the question of ordaining him to the 
work of the gospel ministry. It was a pecul- 
iar case, as he had never technically studied 
theology, though his mind was richly stored 
with theological truth. The council met at 
Bridgewater, October 27th, and, after a full 
examination, he was duly ordained and set 
apart for the work of the ministry, witli the 
understanding tliat if he should return from 
the war, he would then pursue his theological 
studies in due form. It was an occasion of 

great and toucliing interest. Rev. Dr. Dutton, 

t 



BECOMES CHAPLAIN TN THE ARMY. 135 



from New Ilavcii, preached the sermon, and 
Rev. B. G. Nortlirop made the ordainhig 
prayer. This done, he returned to his regi- 
ment, and entered upon his work. 

A little wliile afterwards, Col. Fellows, in 
writing liome to his parents, then living in 
Lancaster, Mass. says : — '' Your minister may 
know my chaplain. lie was formerly a second 
lieutenant in my regiment hut, on his heing or- 
dained, I gave him tlie chaplaincy (tlie highest 
rank I can really appoint, that is, cavalry cap- 
tahi) . He is the son of Dr. Sclmeider, the cele- 
brated missionary in Turkey. Cliaplain 8. was 
born in Turkey, has travelled considerably in 
the East, came to this country, and completed 
his education at Yale College, was professor at 
Bridgewater Normal School for a time, and, on 
entering the army, was about to take a tutor- 
ship at Yale, and in connection pursue liis 
studies for a missionary to the East. He is 
the best army chaplain I ever saw." 

It will be remem])ered, in a passage quoted 
from Schneider's letters, a little while ago, tliat 
he spoke of " tln^ee or four " college graduates 
among the officers of the regiment. That letter 
was written soon after he came into camp, and 



136 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 

before he knew much concerning the officers. 
Col. Fellows, in the letter from which we have 
made the above extract, says : — "I have seven 
or eight college graduates, and only four from 
civil life. The rest have all seen service, and 
several of them hard times. Several were at 
Gettysburg. I have a captain who was cap- 
tain tliere. He saw the color-bearer shot 
down several times, when he seized the colors 
and carried them through the battle. One of 
my lieutenants has been in eighteen fights. 
Including myself, there are now thirty-six com- 
missioned officers in the regiment, and about 
nine hundred and fifty men." 

On Sunday, Nov. 15th, young Schneider 
held his first regular preaching service with 
the regiment. He describes the day as fol- 
lows : — 

" I thought this morning, that we should have 
a rainy, and therefore a quiet in-door day of it. 
But soon the clouds scattered, and the sun 
came out brightly. I went up to the Hospital, 
taking two of the lieutenants to help sing, and 
held services. I think it did the men good. 
Yery soon after dinner, I attended another 
burial-service, using the opportunity to speak 



BECOMES CHAPLAIN IN THE ARMY. 137 



a few words of warning. Soon after returning, 
dress-parade call was given, the square was 
formed, and I hold my first regular service. 
We, a few of the officers, sung two stanzas of 
' My country, 'tis of thee.' I read tlie ninety- 
first Psalm, and then spoke to them as soldiers, 
showing them how they stood before the world, 
what their present position and their future 
prospects were. They listened. After a short 
prayer, the whole battalion uncovering the 
head, I dismissed them with the benediction. 
After dismissal, one of the men came up to me 
saying, — 'Chaplain, dems was good w^ords. 
It makes tlie boys all feel nice.' This even- 
ing, we had a very pleasant meeting here in 
my tent. The prayers were earnest and 
thoughtful." 

About a week from this last-mentioned date 
the regiment received marching orders, and 
tnen came the bustle and confusion of break- 
ing up tlie camp, and taking their departure. 



CHAPTER YIII. 

THE REGIMENT ORDERED SOUTH. GOES TO SHIP 

ISLAND. 

THE order to move came at last somewhat 
suddenly. The regiment was to go to 
New York, and thence by steamer to New 
Orleans. A hasty letter, written by Col. Fel- 
lows to his parents, in pencil, on board the 
steamer " Continental,'^ just as she was about 
to sail from New York, will give an idea of 
the whole movement np to that time. He 
says : — "I have had innumerable troubles, or 
delays, since I left Washington. The train 
was to be ready at daylight, Tuesday morning.^' 
[This was Tuesday, Nov. 24th.] '' So I com- 
menced to get ready at 12^^ o'clock at night, 
and I was at the depot at 71 a. m. We did 
not succeed in moving till 12 M. At Balti- 
more we had to change cars, besides marching 
a mile. At Havre de Grace we waited full 
two hours. At Philadelphia we had to march 

(138) 



THE REGIMENT ORDERED SOUTH. 139 



anotlier mile, from depot to depot, besides 
changing men and baggage to ferry-boat and 
to cars again. At Jersey city we waited a 
long time for the ferry to New York, and at 
last arrived in Park Barracks, on Broadway, 
at 10 p. M., Wednesday night." 

The next day was Thanksgiving ; and, dur- 
ing the early part of the day, it seemed prob- 
able that the regiment would not be ordered 
forward until the morrow. But the letter pro- 
ceeds : — " When I was all settled for the 
night, came notice that I must move the regi- 
ment to the boat. So away we went, — 
marched up Broadway to Canal street, thence 
to Canal street wharf. A dense crowd followed 
lis. The regiment was the ' lion,' all tlie 
while, in the city. No disturbance occurred, 
however. Two or three insulters were pun- 
ished. One of the men knocked down a man 
for insulting an officer (calling him ' white 
nigger'). The adjutant knocked another 
down for insulting him. Once on our way by 
railroad (coming on to New York), our car 
was stoned. Such is our life. But we are all 
proud of our regiment. I am the first to lead 
a black regiment through the city of New 



140 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



York. The movement was eminently suc- 
cessful." 

The letters of Chaplain Schneider give full 
details of the voyage ; but as there was notliing 
very peculiar in them we omit them. They 
reached New Orleans Dec. 4th, having had a 
quicker voyage than they anticipated, though 
with abundance of sea-sickness. In the letter 
written immediately after their arrival he 
says: — "All the way up the river we were 
most enthusiastically cheered by the inhabi- 
tants, cspeciolly the blacks. Oh the profound 
bows the black women made ! — So liulicrous ! 
. . . . We are going to Ship Island, to 
stay about a montli." 

Ship Island, whither they are going, is one 
of several islands in ^Mississippi Sound. 

The regiment arrived there Dec. 10th, and, 
soon after reaching the place, he sends the fol- 
lowing letter to his father : — 

" My dear Father, — This is the very last 
place I expected to find myself in. I remem- 
ber that when Butler's expedition was stated 
to be stopping at Ship Island, I thought I 
would just look on the map ; but I never im- 



THE UEOIMENT ORDERED SOUTH. 141 



agiiicd that I sliould see tlie iHlaiid willi my 
own eyes. It is alioiit eleven miles long, and 
on an average a mile wide. It is a])Out twenty 
miles from Mobile, and sixty from New Oj- 
leans by the Lake Ponteliartrain route, and a 
Imndred and ei^lity miles by the river route. 
The north-eastern part of the island I judge to 
be the oldest, from the fact that there is more 
vegetation on that part than on any other. 
All oui' wood comes from there, and indeed 
that is (piite a tioublesome matter, inasmuch 
as we have to transport our wood seven or 
eight miles, and as yet we have no teams to 
do it with. We need a little fire at night and 
in the morning. Our great want is wood to 
cook with. The men have actually only 
half enough to eat, because food could not bo 
cooked. We are encamped at the south-west- 
ern end, in company with another colored reg- 
iment, and under the guns of a fort which 
the government is building here. This is also 
a naval station, and several men-of-war arc 

off here all the while 

" There is YQvy little to distract the attention 
of tlie men, and ihoy can study liere to ad- 
vantage. I have a large marqu(;e, wliich will 



142 JAMES 11. SCHNEIDER. 



accommodate about seventy, and in this I hear 
my classes, and hold my prayer-meetings. I 
am at the same time studying for my own im- 
provement. The Bible makes my particular 
study. I hope thereby to abbreviate m/ the- 
ological course, and to be in Turkey about as 
soon as I orighially intended. .Eddie is get- 
ting along nicely. He is economical. I think 
he is a good hoy^ too. He has improved. 
There is a good deal that is noble in his char- 
acter. Father, I am glad you take such a 
view of my going to the war. It is a comfort. 
*' This is a short letter, but I will write 
again. God is very good to us. His greatest 
blessing to me is A. 

" Your affectionate son, 

" James." 

In order that we may the more fully illus- 
trate the nature of the young chaplain's work, 
and the current of his thoughts and feelings, 
and thus justify, in some measure, the strong 
expression of Colonel Fellows, — " He is the 
best army chaplain I ever saw," — we propose 
now to give, sometv-hat continuously, his own 
account of his labors there, as gleaned from 



THE REGIMENT ORDERED SOUTH. 143 



bis letters. December 10th, lie writes : — 
^' I am sitting in the colonel's room at head- 
quarters. We are not settled down yet, and 
so, for a while, we of the staff make this our 
rendezvous. There are quite a number of 
houses in the island occupied by the other 
regiment. Our colonel, however, has the prin- 
cipal house, surrounded by a veranda, and 
crowned by a cupola. He has only one room, 
and here we are, the colonel, major, quarter- 
master, adjutant, and I. We have good times 
here, agreeing vrey well. Last night we had 
a very pleasant, intelligent talk together, all 
smoking except the quarter-master and myself. 
But, to entertain us all, the colonel had oranges 
produced and discussed. 1 like the colonel 
more and more. He spoke to the officers on the 
steamer last Sunday, and said he wanted them, 
all of them, to attend services in the cabin. I 
may not have told you that I then gave an infor- 
mal lecture on a variety of subjects, vulgarity 
of conversation, etc. They listened well, and 
afterward fell to discussing the topics them- 
selves. Yesterday morning, we buried two 
more men who died in consequence of expos- 
ure during the voyage. I said a few words 



141 .lAlMKS 11. SCIINKIDKK. 



at ll»i\i;r;ivo. Military l\>rms of burial (oml io 
L!;ive importaiu'o (o Jtath, and so valuo lo \'\\\\ 
This is most ossoulial. ^^'a^ tU^juvcialcs life.'* 

I>iH'. 1 1th lie writes: — ''Yesterday 1 pitehinl 
my tiMit. And a most niagnilieent tent it is. 
It is a. SibK\v tent, witli two very lar^e tents 
on eat'li side. At any time, by draNvint;' ilown 
tlie partitions, it may l)e dividinl into three 
tents. One end I use as my private tent. 
'JMu* otlier two 1 shall nse lor my sehool- 
room, ami ehapel. This is a (u)d-send lo me. 
It is just wliat 1 'want. The eoloiiel i;ave it to 
me. He will ilo almost everything lor mo 
that 1 wish. This place and those cireumstan- 
oes are very propitious to my work, and if wo 
stay here lor some time, and I have health, and 
(u">d blesses me, mueh t;'ood, 1 hoj)e, will be 
done. I\Iy mind is I'nll of plans and purposes. 
1 am st udyinLT, and thinkinti;, and workiiur, 
with hand and tong-ue."*' 

The next letter is datml IVu'. 1(hh:— -^'T 
have taken several walks upon tlic boaeh, 
and have found eousiderable Natural History 
awaiting my consideration. 1 have found 
three species of jelly-lisli, and have also ex- 
amined a horse-shoe crab, i have at length 



Tiif-: i!.iy;iMKNT oiM)r;iii;i> Kocrir. ^4^) 



organize'] my f;lassoK, and liioy u.i-c in wojk- 
\]ii/ ovdiu-. 1 l)av(; Iwo f^IasKOS <;(' l)<;;i;inijf;r.s, 
and on(j of HiOi'c a'JvaiK^'Ml K':liol;i,rH. I ^/ivc; 
Ui(;ni (;ight hours a vv<;f;k. All my ovoniiiM;H 
ar<; l,;i,kf;n up. On Sun'l;i,y ;j,nd Thur^'Jay 
evenings, prayor-njf*/;tings vvitli officorH ; on 
Tuesday evem'jig, ono wifJi tli'; men ; on Haf/- 
urday, lyeeum ; nnd on llie othor oveningH, 
claHseH. 'I'lie lyeeunj, too, is in oper;i,fj'ori. I 
drew up tinj f-onslifjition, and organized Uh; 
whole thing througii. Almost nil the offieerH 
will he in it. We. di.sciuss the eonfiscatiorj aet 
next Satuj-day. I find y.ouvi time;, nay two 
hours a d;j.y, to r(;;jd." 

!)(;(;. 17th he writew: — "We had a [U'ayer- 
meeting as usual this (evening. V(iry earnest 
prayers wcj-c, offered, ;infj p'ttitions and tlianks 
torj lor ' oiir eh;i,pl:j,in.' On'; phi.n after an- 
other suggests itself to me. Tin going to ]e'>- 
ture to the njen, one,e or twiee a wcMik, u})on 
(M>jrimon topi'"/-. Th't men ;i,r(5 ghid to 'Jo any- 
thing foi" me. My j^^st-offiee lousiness takes 
up a good de;i,l of my time. But 1 ;i.m glad 
to HUperinten'J the m:j.tter, hecause the njen's 
letters are [<oorly fJireeted, an'] unle.s;; .some 

JO 



146 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



0110 sees to it, they ^vill never reaeh their dos- 
tiiiatioii." 

Dec. 2*2d ho writes : — *'■ Wo had a pleasant 
day last Sunday, and I preached to tho regi- 
ment. 1 spoke on the subject of economy. 
These men are most wasteful, much more so 
than otlier soldiers. The colonel spoke after- 
wards on the same subject. In the ovcning 
wo had one of the most interesting prayer- 
meetings wo have over held. There was a 
good number of officers present, and, as soon 
as the meeting was thrown open, one man im- 
mediately oifered prayer, and then another, 
and another ; then some earnest, heartfelt re- 
marks were made, and*tlieii an officer, who 
has been leading a most errant life, olTered a re- 
pentant prayer. The elTect was most excel- 
lent. After meeting, a number of them sat 
down, and we had a very pleasant talk. You 
know that the ofHccrs take charge of the Sun- 
day evening meeting. I ask dinbrent men to 
take charge, and 1 am trying to get those who 
do not frequently take part, to take charge, so 
as to ' work them in,' as they say. I am 
thinking now more especially of this, subject: 
the various means to be devised to secure a 



TflK UKGmKST ORDER El) BOUTIf. 147 



constant fipiiiliLal growth, — a fiyntcmatic, pro- 
grcsBivo, Olirisiian lir<3. J wj'hIi to writo several 
sermons on tlie snbject, t(j Ij(j used not only 
now, hut also when 1 am Htudying theology. 
J jfiust write one or two lectures on secular 
8ul)j(iets." 

hVojij u. letter writtejj January 7th, 1804, wo 
take the following: — " My desire to go out to 
Tiiikey increases. Paul's intense missionary 
spirit produces a kindred desire in joe, u.u<\ 1 
find that l am thinking of the woik, uot as a 
duty, htit as a happy jjrivilege, and now my 
thoughts and studies all tend to that work. 
This present work and situation is doing me 
good in this particular. 1 do not know, how- 
ever ; there may ])e woi'k lor me here in Amer- 
ica. I wait patiently. 

" Please 8end me some papers. We have 
jiot had a northern paper since we have been 
on the islajid. We wish to see the President's 
message, — his firoclamation. We have gath- 
ered scraps of it. Ifow grand the war looks 
in its results! Do you not f-:ee iliitni all? 
God! God! All ouj* wondei*, all our worship, 
all our thoughts, end in llim. lih*: .se<] lie his 
name ! " 



148 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



January 8th lie says: — "I rode down to 
the fort with the colonel this morning and as 
the morning was bright, the air strongly oxy- 
genated, our horses in good spirits, and the 
beach hardened by the receding waters, we en-., 
joyed it much. After dinner, I fixed up my 
'fly,' and then visited the hospital, reading 
the Bible and -newspapers to the men, talking 
and praying with them. Reading the Presi- 
dent's message in the earlier part of the even- 
ing, I went down to the meetings of the men, 
in their company streets, and then, collecting 
ray choir, practised some hymns." 

The following is to his sister Eliza : — 

"Ship Island, Jan. 9, 1864. 

" My own, only Sister, — Precious Liz- 
zie, — Just now I was thinking to whom I 
had written by this mail ; and when I thought 

that I had written to A , to Auntie, Willie, 

Edward, Charlie, and other business letters, 
and that my precious sister Lizzie alone was 
left out, the tears came running down my 
cheeks. No, my sister, not because I have 
ceased to love you is this. You are more 
precious than ever. This separation only en- 



TIIK IlEGTMENT ORDERED SOUTH. 149 



dears my friends. A tells you all the 

news, I suppose. Is she well ? Does she 
look happy and cheerful, or is she fading 
away ? It is too bad ; I ought not, perhaps, 

to have come away. . . . Tell A that 

we are going to move up to the upper end of 
the island, and that I am going to have a 
smaller and more convehient tent. That mar- 
quee has been an elephant on my hands. To 
keep it standing in the wind, and warm in the 
cold, has absorbed all my energies. Would 
you believe that the water freezes in our tents, 
every morning, now ? The men have really 
suffered from the lack of wood. I think the 
other regiment will move away, and we shall 
occupy the fort and the barracks. One thing 
is very convenient, — by digging two feet into 
the sand and setting down a barrel, we have a 
well of sweet water. This white sand is an 
excellent filterer, as William will tell you. We 
are studying Natural History at a great rate. 
I must stop now, dear Lizzy, and get ready for 
our lyceum. I often think how much you and 
William (Rev. Mr. D wight) have done and 
are doing for your family friends. Tliank you 



150 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



and him, good man that he is. My love to 
him and Harry. 

" Your brother, 

"James." 

In a letter, written January 25th, he says : — 
" Saturday was a most beautiful day, — tlie 
clouds all below the horizon, the air still, the 
sun genially warm. I took a short walk, after 
breakfast, in the woods, and was sung into 
worship by the sweet birds. I asked the colo- 
nel at noon to give me more time at the ser- 
vice, and we arranged that dress-parade, on 
Sunday, should come an hour earlier than 
usual, thus giving an hour for service after- 
wards. I preached upon stealing^ — a thing 
that is egregiously common in the regiment. 
I don't write out my sermons. I simply sit 
down and think them out, and then speak 
them off without even a skeleton. I do 
not fail to bring out most that I have thouglit 
of. The evening prayer-meeting was very 
solemn and impressive. There is progress and 
development in some of the Christian officers. 
The lyceum, too, has a good influence. It 
stimulates the mind ; I can see it plainly. 



THE REGIMENT ORDERED SOUTH. 151 



They prayed very earnestly and cordially for 
their chaplain. After meeting, I went to take 
part in the meeting of the men. What do 
you think I saw ? In one very large gather- 
ing, they were singing and shouting very ear- 
nestly, and almost dancing as they sung. I 
saw there was something of special interest 
going on, and stood outside. Soon, I saw in 
the midst a man lying on a litter, and appar- 
ently in great mental agony, crying out — 
* God have mercy ! God have mercy ! ' There 
were three men singing and chanting and 
praying around this man, exorcising him, bring- 
ing him through. What do you say to that ? 
Ninety per cent, of this religious zeal is, I 
believe, nervous or magnetic excitement. I 
took no part, except to ask the Christians 
there to pray still more for that man, as the 
meeting broke up. I am learning much of 
the peculiarities -of these men by going around 
among them every day. I meet with difficul- 
ties. The men are very much attached to 
these peculiarities of worship, which I know 
to be injurious. I must use management." 

January 29th he writes of a tragedy among 
them: — " Last Friday, one of tlie coolest pre- 



152 jTvMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



meditated murders was committed, in our regi- 
ment, that I have ever known of. Two of our 
men had a quarrel in the afternoon ; hard words 
passed between them, and a blow was struck. 
The insulter, who was struck, but was really 
the man to be blamed, swore revenge. At 
evening, when the company was falling in for 
dress-parade, the man took his place much 
nearer to the victim of his passion, and, turn- 
ing around, coolly took aim and shot the ser- 
geant as he stood in his place behind and at 
the right of his company. The ball went 
through the man's chest, and he fell and ex- 
pired in a few seconds. We buried the un- 
fortunate man yesterday. The funeral was, 
of course, largely attended, and I improved 
the opportunity to speak of the nature of the 
crime, and of the anger and abusive lan- 
guage which led to it. I asked myself, as I 
stood beside Sergeant Wang, last Friday, ' Am 
I responsible for this man's soul, if it is lost ? 
Could I have done something to save him ? ' 
And the answer was, ' When you preached 
upon stealing, you might have preached Christ 
and the way of salvation.' And so, yesterday, I 
thought I could delay no longer, and preached, 



THE REGIMENT OEDEEED BOUTH. 153 



* Bc4ieve in tlie Lord Jesus Christ/ I gathered 
statistics last week, and found out that not much 
more than a hundred out of nine liundred 
of the men are Christians, wliile a httle more 
than half the officers are Christians. Do you 
not think there was reason for my preaching 
so ? I think the effect was good. In the 
evening, the prayer-meeting of tlie officers 
was very interesting. I think there is at least 
some spiritual interest at present. Before the 
meeting, I attended a meeting of the men." 

lu liis letter, February od, we find the fol- 
lowing pleasant and beautiful tlioughts : — "I 
am in one of my most pleasurable states of 
mental excitement, which are caused by the 
inflowing of new and good tlioughts, and wliich 
so thoroughly wake me up that I cannot sleep 
for a long time. I have been meditating 
upon the life of Christ. I believe that wo- 
marCa character, whenever brought into con- 
tact with his, is resplendent with amiable 
virtues. Women never doubt or question ; 
women stand by him when the fidelity of men 
proves false ; women never insult him arro- 
gantly and with pride. They are speechless, 
liumble, and still so powerful in faith that they 



154 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



secure divine interposition in favor of others. 
Call to mind tlie woman at Jacob's well ; the 
woman taken in adultery ; tlic woman who 
anointed his feet in Simon's house ; Mary of 
Bethany; Mary, his own motlicr. How sweetly 
humble the answer of the Syrophenician wo- 
man, — 'Yea, Lord, yet the dogs under the 
table eat of the children's crumbs.' I think I 
am gaining much by this study ; I love Christ 
more. Jesus, I think, is a sweeter name than 
Christ. Jesus means Saviour." 

February 11th he says : — " This Thurs- 
day noon I called together the Christians 
of the regiment, to talk with them about 
matters of religious interest in the regiment. 
I was surprised to see so large a response 
to my invitation. I asked men of the dif- 
ferent companies to tell me how matters stood 
with them, and so we arrived at the fact, that 
there were between twenty and twenty-five 
' mourners,' or inquirers, in the regiment. I 
then gave them some suggestions as to the 
manner of conducting their meetings. I 
frankly told them that I was not accustomed 
to their method of conducting meetings, and 
had not been so educated ; but that they must 



THE REGIMENT ORDERED SOUTH. 155 



not infer that I thought their way wrong or in- 
expedient. I assured them that I had the deep- 
est interest in their growth and enlargement. 
I told them that whenever I could, I should 
come down to their meetings, and conduct 
them through the first part, and then leave the 
meeting in their 'hands. This, I think, is the 
best plan. I will read the Bible and explain 
it, and start them with new thoughts, and then 
they can carry themselves to such a pitch of 
excitement as they choose. This afternoon I 
went down to the lower end, and made ar- 
rangements to preach to the prisoners on the 
island, many of whom are from white regi- 
ments in this department, sent here under 
sentence of court martial. They number 
about sixty." 

The extracts which we have thus made are 
largely from letters to a single individual ; but 
liis letters to Aintab, to his friends at Engle- 
wood, to his mother, who is still in this coun- 
try, during the earlier part of his stay on the 
island, all breathe the same spirit, and abound 
with the same essential details. He is ex- 
ceedingly busy and laborious in his work. To 
his mother he writes, just before her depart- 



156 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



vire : — ''I love the missionary work. I read 
Paul, and he makes mo a better missionary. 
I really long for the work now, as I did not 
awhile ago. God sparing me, I will go right 
on with my studies as soon as my war-work is 
done. Dear father ! bless him for being willing 
that both his sons should go into the fight." 
In a letter to his father he says : — 

" My dear Father, — We are still, you 
see, on this quiet island. We have moved our 
camp from the western end to the woods which 
cover the eastern half of the island ; and 
whereas we suffered from the want of wood 
at the other place, we now have a })lenty of it, 
and besides have a little verdure to soften the 
glarhig of the sand. We are all very com- 
fortable now, and liave had bright, sunny 
weather these four weeks. The men are in 
good health, — are dressing neater, and keep 
their arms in good condition. Yery providen- 
tially we have had good weather for four suc- 
cessive Sundays, and I have preached every 
time. 

"I may not have told you that the regi- 
ment" is drawn up in the form of a square, 



THE REGIMENT ORDERED SOUTH. 157 



whenever the weather will permit, and 1 speak 
to men and officers all togetlier. I thus have 
an audience of seven liundred, more or less. 
My position is somewhat difficult. The men, 
in their ignorance, need very simple preaching, 
while the officers, who are above the average 
in education and intelligence, need the highest 
style of preaching. But as the men are more 
numerous, and jjy far the most needy, I address 
myself to tliem ; but at the same time try to 
make my simple language convey valualjle 
and not common truths. 

" My sulyects are simple and elementary, — 
my texts, hitherto, the ten commandments. 
Do you not think this kind of work may 
fit me for missionary life ? I am still teach- 
ing, you must remember, and am learning 
how to teach all the while. This, too, fits me 
for the peculiar work in Turkey, which I have 
in mind. My heart is upon that work, father, 
much more than it used to be. My present 
work leads me into it. How do I know but 
that, if I had kept on with my studies, I 
might have become so ambitious a scholar, I 
might have been unwilling to go out as a mis- 
sionary ? " 



158 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



Frequent letters also went from him to liis 
brother William, Avho was connected with the 
navy, and held the otlice of assistant engineer 
on board the steamer " Calypso/' But avo 
must not extend these extracts. 

He had written, about the middle of Febru- 
ary, that they were immediately to leave Ship 
Island ; but his last dispatch from that place is 
dated February 16th, and is as follows : — 

" You see that we are still on this island, 
notwithstanding the postscript that I wrote on 
the outside of my last letter. As I told you, 
I went down with the letters, and finding that 
the boat did not go back till noon, I sat down 
and wrote another letter. In the mean time, 
dispatches brought by the boat had gone up 
to the colonel, and, as I wrote, he came down 
with the news that he Avas ordered to Key 
West. We all like the change. To be sure, 
the climate may not be as good. But we shall 
be near a city, — shall have regular communi- 
cation with New York, and shall be within six 
days of you. We are now probably perma- 
nently fixed. We give up all idea of going 
into the field." 

So ends his story at Sliip Island. 



CHAPTER IX. 

REGIMENT RE310VED TO KEY WEST. 

THE stay at Ship Island had been prolonged 
beyond the time originally anticipated. 
It was a little more than two months that the 
regiment remained there. It had been an ex- 
cellent place for the chaplain's work, and the 
opportunity had been thoroughly improved. 
February 17th seems to have been the day of 
breaking up there, and on February 22d the 
regiment enters the harlx^r at Key West, — an 
island off the southern point of Florida. A 
letter from Cliaplain Schneider, written that 
day, will give his first impressions of the 
place : — 

" Risiijg til is morning we soon saw Key 
West light ; tlicn Key West itself was in sight, 
and soon a pilot came on board, and we 
steamed into the harbor. The waters of the 
harbor are sea-green on account of the coral 

(159) 



160 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



bottom. It is on the western" end of tlie isl- 
and, whicli is about seven miles long, and runs 
east and west. Fort Taylor, which we are to 
garrison, is situated on the south-western end, 
at the entrance of the harbor. (I am now 
writing in the cabin, as we lay anchored in the 
harbor, the colonel having gone ashore to re- 
ceive orders.) This is Washington's birth-day, 
you know, and all the vessels in the harbor 
are gayly decorated with flags. There are a 
large number of all manner of craft lying 
here ; several gunboats, — the San Jacinto, 
and the famous slaver. Wanderer, among the 
number. Tugs and row-boats are plying in 
all directions. Of the houses we see little, as 
they are mostly hidden by the banana and 
cocoa trees. The fort, of which we as yet 
know little, looks formidable, has three tiers 
of casemated guns, and is said to have two 
hundred guns. The day is most beautiful. 
The air is most genial, and we are happy. 
We are glad to be once more in civilized life. 
It is pleasant to liear once more the whistle 
of the railroad engine. There is a railroad 
running from the fort to two market towns 
near the eastern end of the island. Key West 



REGIMENT REMOVED TO KEY WEST. 161 



will Open a new life to me, and I must address 
myself to it with earnestness 

" I hope that God. will spare me to 'come 
back, and go on with my studies. I pray for 
that. 

" Our general commanding this district of 
' Key West and Tortugas ' is "Woodbury, a 
very fine man, — a Christian." 

February 26th he writes again : — " Only 
four of our ten companies are in- the fort. 
Another is in barracks, and the other five 
are in camp, awaiting the completion of 
barracks which will accommodate* all. The 
camp is about a mile and a quarter from the 
fort. I can of necessity be with one battal- 
ion only. I am a little sorry for this, but I 
will try to distribute my labors. All the com- 
panies, however,, will attend in the fort on Sun- 
day. The fort-yard will be an easy place for 
me to speak in. 

" Almost the first thing that the general 

asked the colonel, when he reported to him 

for duty, was whether he had a good chaplain, 

and an important question with him seemed 

to be, where our men would go to church. He 

at once invited the colonel and myself to dine 
11 



162 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



with him. Wc found hhn a very agreoahle, 
intelligent, scholarly man, and an earnest 
Christian. I had to refuse ^vine, although the 
general urged it upon me as the purest of 
wines ; and after all he did manage to make 
me take some, by pouring it himself on the 
sugar on my plate, saying it would make good 
sauce. We had a very pleasant talk. They 
have three interesting children. His wife is 
a very elegant lady. 

" The arrival of a colored regiment in a 
southern city creates a little uncomfortable 
feeling among the inliabitants, and at first wo 
may encounter opposition and contumely. But 
we are really masters of the city, and will put 
down all opposition." 

We have also several of the letters which 
Colonel Fellows wrote to his parents, during 
his life at Key West, and a few brief extracts 
from these may help us to know the character 
of the place, as respects natural position and 
scenery, as also the character of the inhabi- 
tants. 

He says : — " We landed and encamped im- 
der orders from Brigadier General Woodbury, 
commanding ' District of Key West and Tor- 



m 



REGIMENT REMOVED TO KEY WEST. 163 



tugas.' Found the people very bitter against 
' niggers ; ' but did not care much. Tiie 47th 
Pennsylvania volunteers, whom I relieved, 
were also very much opposed to us. They 
used every sort of epithet agahist me, as ^id 
also the citizens. Yet some of the people 
have called upon me, and when I grasped their 
hands, I felt that friends were around. . . . 
Key West is the most beautiful spot I ever 
saw. Everything is green, and the warm air 
and pleasant breezes are delightful. I only 
wish you could see me as I am now located." 

When it was known that a colored regiment 
was coming, a petition was circulated and 
signed by white soldiers and by citizens, ask- 
ing the United States government to interpose 
and remove the regiment from the place be- 
cause they were negroes. Colonel Fellows 
says, in view of this : — "If I should attempt 
to interfere, I might commit offence, so I only 
await further orders, confident that I never 
defrauded the government while in its service, 
and tliat / am loyal. These things, and such 
as these, make me an abolitionist. I first de- 
clared myself one, when a man in a United 
States uniform was brouglit into the central 



1G4 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



guard-house {at Waslungton\ bruised ami 
injured, because, as the secret police said, lie 
was a ' nigger.' .... Since 1 have 
been in my present position, 1 have boon lu- 
suTled, cursed, and abused everywhere. Ihit 
to-day 1 am proud that 1 am here. 1 only 
\\ish I could command this district myself. 
^so man uould cui'j:c the government openly 

in the streets I am ready for 

the field; and would ask no better men to lead. 
Ihit my n\en are happy and comfortable, and 
here .1 can solve the great problem, better than 
anywhere else, as to their capacity for becom- 

im;' soldiers Here 1 can teach 

them nuinhooil, self-reliance, — not only how 
to be soldiers but how to be gentlemen." 

On the '2d oi' March, eight days after the 
arrival at Key West, Cha{>lain Sehneider 
writes : — '* 1 have organized my classes again, 
and this time on an entirely dilVcrent principle. 
Out oi' each company 1 select three or more 
teachers, — competent teachers, and allow each 
oi' them to teach six oi' their company, giv- 
ing them fifty cents a mouth for each scholar. 
I superintend the work, and have the teachers 
recite to me. The money for paying these 



JlKCfMENT RFMOVhD TO V.i// WL::t. 105 



Ui'dciicj'H will }>f^ taken from the pont rnud, 
which iii'i'ihly c/jtu^tH U<)Ui Hixv'm'/H on flour ra- 
tion h." 

On IJje 4fJi of March )jc v/nte«: — " i liavc 
Ixy^n around, b^^cinj/ the f>riH^;ners. Ilicrc 
are B^>nio thirty of thcin, cojifi/icd for various 
offcnccK, jKjlitical and criminal. 'J ijcrc arc 
nj'ijj Ijcrc confined from fiUKpicion, — there 
arc rcficl hohJicr;:, murdererB, thieves*, muti- 
neerH. FvimnavH mft, liahle to he very mucU 
iieglecUid. 'J'iicy are conhncd \(^vy long be- 
fore trial, uijd then they are passed from one 
hand to anotlier, without thought or care. 
They become filthy, and often tlieir Bpirit Is 
broken, and they don't care wliat becomes of 
them. 1 hhall try to Bee them oft/in, and talk 
with them, and ^'^ive them reading wljcnever 
they can read. 1 frequently visit the }jOHpital, 
too. Jt i;-; a general hoHpital, and men from 
aknost any regi/rient may f>ie left liere by trans- 
fiorts which pa:-:-: by tlje place. One of our 
own Bcrgeants is very sick, and knows tliat he 
cannot live, and he feels that he is not ready 
to go. I saw lilm day before yesterday, and 
he Bcnt for' me yesterday. He is in great an- 
guish of mind, and cannot bring himself to 



lOG JAMRsi U. ^OnXKir^KR. 



WlioYO that Chnst is willing to lo\^i\*x> him. 
1 pnmnl with him, awvl UhI him towawi i^hrist,* 
a^j >v\>ll as I know hvn\ . >Vo bnriovl a nnvn 
ycstorvlaw and bnrv anotlior ti>-d;\y." 

Thon follow tho oxporionoos tor Maivh tth 
ami r>th. 

** This is Saturdnv. and I an\ bnsv in writ- 
ing out in pnnoii>al heads w liat I s)\all say t^v 
morrv>w. I shall jMvaoh upon lyiuir : and to 
Ji\w ooloivd people of the city, upon I^wil's e\- 
emplarv life of labor fv^r Christ. AVhenoxor I 
undertake to write a sern\on, I an\ t\nved U) 
jTO io Ood." . . . . ** I have been quite 
busy, havinc: preaohovl I'or the eoloivd pevv 
pie this morning', and tor the regiment this 
afternoon. 1 was so busy all last week, that I 
had not made much preparativMi for the v<ab- 
bath till yesterday n\orninir. 1 was^lad that 
I preaohed to the ooKmwI people. The house 
was well tilled (^it is a small ehureh^. and they 
listened well, and seenu\l aiVeoted t'or good. 
Soldiers were there, anvl sailers, too. 1 sliall 
preaeh tor them regidarly. — onoe every Sab- 
bath. I shall lind a large lield ot' labor here, 
and I shall do all I ean." 



hi a )';(,l/;r o/' Marv.li lOih li^., ojiyn:— '< Wo 
liavrj j(j:,/, n;l,(inir;rj fro/r. oi/r jnuyiu- nicj-Ar 
hi^r, },i |j„. ,jj,,.,. r/,uf,f,. I K;,vr; wriU,<;n a 
lil.U'; of iriy Hr-j;no/. l,o (J;,y, ;,nrj |.|,i;^, aa(;n,orm 

l.o liav(5 v(jry mucl, (/, do, l.iil, a/'f/;/' il is all 
<ioJlO, if, H(;f;/n>i l,r> a/riouj)!. lo l)(,(,N;. VVr;ll 
fJi^; only ro/nody in lo work \r,u(l<;r. I vvarif, (,o 
/>n;aolj a ^ood Hl,ron^ Honnr^/j (j,f; „<;kI I'uiic. 
i wafj/. /.o (m/iu,i'/.(; l\i('.(u,U>n;<\ ohiirdiCH, |/;o,— 
t/> nnJI,o ax; i;a;,|j:-./, a/i/J Mr-.fliodi'.t ii, or.^. flo* 
cicf.y.*' 

^K''i'' !«'; wnl,(;H: — '^Tliifi JH ij.o Uiirf,o(;nlJi 
of iVIaroii, and U, morrow I ff.all f,o f,w^;/.l,y- 
/ivo yfjar.H old ! A f|(ia/l,r;/- of a o«;nhiry old ! 
HliaJJ J Hr;(; aiioljicr (ji/a/ l.r;r of a ccnlury ? Jf 
i'io, il, will prohahly f,.; |,|,,, Uf-a pari' of rny 

ill''. How //J(|rJ, (,nij\il a ;^,;j,„ j^^ ,J,^ j,, j^^ 

rniir;!, |,i„i(; ? i;,j(, .<,j,;,,|j j ,.v,.,. ^,,,, j, y i'^^^^^ 
wliy nf;orj wo l,roiiM(; our.HclvoH aho.il, 1,1, i- uu- 
crsrUi/i r.jljj/o V VVo will f,al<o iJio pro ,r;/,l, a/id 
work ijr,w.'* 

Wo irji^dil, aino trivo ma/jy cximcAn from ]m 
h'AU'A'H^ hl)owin^r Uio inlorost l,o ij>(,k, and l\,<i 
progroKH lirj /riado in tlio ntudy of iJio f,aUjral 
objoctH af>o(/l, liirn, tror;K, plani-;, .shollH, rd/;. 



168 JAMES H. Sg^NEIDER. 



In March, he, with a friend, sailed to the Tor- 
tugas, for the purpose of gathering natural 
curiosities, and, especially, specimens of coral, 
which there abound and are very line. He 
says : — ^ My plan is, to study zoology and bot- 
any, so far as to have a good understanding of 
the outlines of these sciences, and so be able 
to study them by observation all through life. 
Chemistry can only be studied in the labora- 
tory, but all the other sciences need only a 
watchful eye. I am becoming more and more 
interested all the while." His description of 
this journey, and of what he found, is too long 
to be here inserted, but he felt on returning 
that he had greatly widened his range of knowl- 
edge." 

Again he writes: — "This is my day for 
visiting hospitals, and this I did to-day, attend- 
ing a funeral at the same time. I have many 
funerals to attend, and as I read some new 
passage each time, and try to think of some 
new ideas appropriate to the occasion, I find 
that I am exhausting my thoughts, if not the 
passages. To-day I have formed a sort of sys- 
tem of progressive sermonizing. All subjects 
for sermons may be ' brought under three 



REGIMENT REMOVED TO KEY WEST. 169 



classes : God and his character, — man and 
human nature, — and the relations between 
God and man. A minister should form a 
conception of God's attributes, and preach 
upon each in succession, and should have two 
or more series on these subjects." 

A few brief extracts from the letters of Col. 
Fellows, written in March, and among the 
early days of April, will show how things 
looked from his point of view : — " The people 
of Key West flock in crowds to see my men, 
and they are getting more liberal ; for they say, 
they must confess, they can drill better than 
the veteran Forty-seventh Pennsylvania, which 
were here before. They (the men) behave well 
too. I have a great quantity of work to be done 
in the way of cleaning, etc., before I shall be per- 
fectly free to let things take their course." . . . 
" I am mounting guns, and doing all I can 
to put the armament of the fort on the best 
footing. A great deal of polishing must be 
done, and things must be kept clean, both as a 
matter of discipline and health." ... " My 
men have excellent quarters. That is a great 
satisfaction. I never am contented as long 
as I feel they are at all uncomfortable. I 



170 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



have walked about among tliem many a time, 
to make them feel better, by letting them 
know that I appreciated their troubles. Here, 
I have nothing of that kind to do. The fort is 
as sweet a place as I ever saw. But I am 
using lime plentifully." ... "I hope we 
shall have no fever here. Every precaution 
has been taken against it. I am now put- 
thig the fort in a good sanitary condition, and 
shall pay particular attention to the barracks 
of the men." . . . "The days are getting 
quite warm here. Sometimes it is fearfully 
hot. Yet a west breeze is always blowing. 
Tropical fruits are plenty, — oranges, lemons, 
bananas, cocoa-nuts, etc." 

All the letters that come from Key West 
abovit this time, though they are, on the whole, 
hopeful, are tinged with a certain apprehen- 
sion about fever. The following interesting 
letter was written by Chaplain Schneider about 
this time to his father : — 

"Fort Taylor, Key West (Fla.), March 15, 1864. 

"My dear Father, — You will be sur- 
prised to see my letter dated at this place. I 
am sure we no more expected to be sent hero 



REGIMENT REMOVED TO KEY WEST. 171. 



than wc expected to be sent to Ship Island. We 
sailed into tliis liarljor on the 22d of February, 
and in tliree days were niarclied into the fort. 
You know tliat this island and tlie Dry 'j'ortii- 
gas are considered tlie key of tlie (;luir, and, 
in the event of a foreign war, would be inval- 
uable. Indeed, when we were threatened with 
war with Great Britain, the forces on tlic isl- 
and were trijAed. Tlie reljels thouglit tlie/ 
were sure of having the place ; hut they were 
too dilatory in trying to possesss themselves of 
it. vVnd, even if they had taken the place, 
they could not have kept it long, hecaiise our 
fleet could have cut off all supplies from the 
island, and could have thus starved them out. 
But as long as we have a navy to bring sup- 
plies, we can hold the jjlace against almost 
any force. Notwithstanding we have always 
had possession of the place, the citizens are 
almost all of them in sympathy with the reb- 
els. They lost their slaves by the President's 
emancipation proclamation, and are particu- 
larly bitter against all blacks, and most of all 
against black soldiers. As soon as they heard 
that a colored regiment was coming to re- 
lieve the regiment already garrisoning the 



172 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



place, they sent a petition to Washington, ask- 
ing that the order be countermanded. They 
hate us thoroughly. They insult us too, and 
in such a way that we cannot have them pun- 
ished. 

" The colored people of the place are in sad 
want of teaching and preaching. They have 
been driven from the churches, in which they 
%ere members. They now worship by them- 
selves. I preach for them every Sunday, and 
will do for them all I can. We hope to change 
the public opinion of the place by gradual 
means. It may be surprising that such incip- 
ient treason should be tolerated in a city, to- 
tally dependent upon the government for sup- 
port. But this is the case in many places, and 
many officials are still in partial sympathy 
with the secessionists. 

" I find much to do among my o^\ men. 
They take a new interest in the matter of 
learning to read and write. We have very 
good places for study here in the fort. Our 
rooms, too, are very capacious and comfortable. 
We live in elegant style. I am studying 
zoology and botany ; for you know the fauna 
and flora of this latitude are very different 



REGIMENT REMOVED TO KEY WEST. 173 



from those of ours. I am studying heavy ar- 
tillery, too. I am more than ever interested 
in the study of the Biljle. I want to accom- 
plish very mueli. The yellow fever, you must 
know, often appears here ; but it was almost 
entirely prevented l)y strict quarantine regula- 
tions last summer, and may be averted by 
cleanliness and careful diet ; and wc can go " 
north in the sickliest part of the year. I have 
just entered upon the twenty-sixth year of my 
life. Can you believe that you have children 
twenty, and twenty-eiglit, and (it might have 
been) thirty years old. May God help me to 
live a holier life, these coming twelve montlis. 
. . . . I hear from William occasion- 
ally. He is working hard. I presume you 
and dear auntie are, ))y this time, on your way 
to Aintab again. I wish A. and I were al- 
ready settled down there. I want to be about 
my life-work ; but God has given me something 
to do for the present. He will guide us. 
Pray for us, dear father. Auntie has very 
much endeared herself to us. Very precious 
is she to us all. God keep you both, dear 
father, and gather our whole family to him- 
self at last. " Very affectionately, 

" J. H. Schneider." 



174 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



AVc liavc, also, a letter to his brother Wil- 
liam : — 

"Fort Taylor, Key West, March 29, 1864. 

" My DEAii Brother Willie, — I have re- 
cently received two letters from you, both dated 
at Norfolk. I think it much more likely that 
we shall meet each other here than at Ship Isl- 
and. Navy vessels are coming in and going out 
almost every da}^, and there were very many of 
the vessels in the harbor, and very many of 
the officers on shore, about the hotels, when 
we arrived. I begin to understand navy life a 
little. I see that many lazy, worthless fellows 
find their way into easy, lucrative positions in 
the navy. A naval officer seems to be more 
a gentleman of leisure than military officers. 
They are more delicate in build, — more 
gentlemen, in external appearance^ I mean. * 

" We like the place very much. The yellow 
fever can be kept out, tlicy say, by strict quar- 
antine regulations. Well, w^hethcr the terri- 
ble epidemic comes or not, we have been sent 
here, and we shall stay cheerfully, even in the 
midst of numerous deaths. The fqrt is a mag- 
nificent one, and ou.r quarters very agreeable. 
But I have told you all this in another letter. 



REGIMENT REMOVED TO KEY* WEST. 175 

Nothing remarkable transpires here. Now 
and then, miserable bands of refugees come 
over from the main land, and take the oath, and 
find work upon the public buildings. The 
smaller a place is, the more gossip there is 
afloat ; and so it is here. Every man's hand is 
against his brother, socially, and scandal is un- 
limited. 

" Eddie is finally in the army. He has not 
written me since I gave him permission to en- 
list, and so I do not know whether he got the 
bounty. He is in Co. K., 57th Massachusetts. 
We must write to him frequently, and keep 
him in good counsel. He will see hard times. 
I hope he will have health. 

" I think I shall go home on a furlough in 
July. Can you find your way up to New York 
about the same time ? I am glad that you 
feel the need of Christian sympathy. It shows 
that you are living a Christian life. We all 
learn lessons in mixing with men. I wonder 
sometimes that grown men betray weakness; 
but it is mainly because they have not been 
thrown into circumstances which try the trait 
of character in question. A strong man,— 
let me see him, — I mean, strong in moral and 



171) JAMES II. SCHNEIDKU. 



luontal Ibrce. I heartily coimuond your hon- 
est ambitions, your studious habits. All of us 
boys are now in the war, and I guess wo have 
the average of patriotism in the family. Write 
soon. 

" Very atTeetionately, 

^MaMIOS II. SCUNEIDER.*' 

The three brief extracts which follow are 
from letters written March olst, Apr' I 1st and 
2d : — '' This morning I wrote on my sermon, 
and in the afternoon read a little in Cray, and 
wrote my quarterly re})ort, and before tea 
attem})ted to make two calls, but succeeded 
only in the one u])on the generars wife, ^Irs. 
AVoodbnry. This evening we have had our 
prayer-meeting. Thus Itir, (his w(\'k, 1 have 
been able to do (hings in the proper time." 
...'"] Ikino to think out very simple things 
for our men, you know ; but my plan is to 
write out a more elaborate sermon each time 
that I speak to them, and then use this when 
I preach to more intelligent audiences." . . . 
**• We have had north winds, of late, and the 
weather is very condbrtahle and healthy. AVe 
anticipate a safe summer. There is very 



IlKrUMRNT RKMOVKI) '!'> l.i:V Wllr,']'. 177 



ir)iic,Ii ill l(<'.('))ijij'; <)IM','h iiiiinl ciilin ;ui<l l"<'.;i,rlcH8. 
W<5 1'':<;I Uiii.l. oin- liv<;:; :ir<; in (<o<J'h liiuid;-;, 
jukI I,Ii;i,1> \V(j iU'o biifV;. MohL iiHHm'<;<lly, wc :u-<5 
ill (J()(i'H l<<;<;))iii;'; ; hiil-il, i:i hoiucIJiik;;; Ii:i.j'1 1,'> 
truHt." 

On llxi Hill of April li<- vviolr., :ui'] iJie fol- 
lovviiij..'; in ;i, Itrif;!" ca l,i;i'-,(, IVoiii liJH lcLl/r;r: — 
" J li;i,v('. Ii;i(l :i, l,;ilk vvil.li l\n' ^<;jj';r5il jiI>oij1> Uni 
8cho(il.s (A' Uk; j)l;ic(;, Mini ln^ !i,hl{<;<l uio l,o in- 
t(5roKt jriysc.]/' in U^t nj;i,l,l,(;i', :in<l do ;ill I c.ould. 
lie. <!o<'/i \\<il :,('.(;nj (,'> Uiinlc lli:)!- l,lM;r<; i:i:uiy 
j)(;(',<l ol u /)■(■>■ nr/i'/o/. i iiil,f.ii'l I') look ;i.)'<>tin(i, 
!Ui<] |)l<;;i.<l I);m<1 Ioj- ;s. IV';'; ,';''J)Ool, il" (,li(;|-<; i,S 
|-(',!i,lly ncc'l of oii<;. L:!,;,!, ni;.'lil, w<; w<;nl np (,o 
a pray(iJ*-ln(;';l,iii<.(, ;i.(, Iho ol.licj- l»;i,U,:).lioii ; hul 
Micy li;i,(| nol, moI, lliioii^'li rcciiivinj/ j)M,y, ;-:o w(5 
gav(; iJi'; pniycr i)i(;(;l.in^'; up, :iii<l, on niy vv.'iy 
l»;i.<:k p:i:;:;';'l hy (.h<t (-olorf-d cliui-idi, wli'tro Micro 
waH a pray<;r in<;(;l,iii<';, :iii'l (y:i,j)l,:iin Iiin<*,oln 
Jind f w<;nl> in Jind Look jjuiL AnolJicr day is 
goiio, and its liisloi-y i:; i'(;<:oi-d<;d. In li'iavn, 
I iinn;.'in«!, wc kIimII U\.\h'. niucii lo; :; note ol" 
lime. I :ini c/'A-ImIii w; ;,Ii:iI] nol, mourn over 
panl; tinn; or lo;-^,!, I.ini';." 

Ajiril lOUi lio writCiS : — " 'J'lii:; has licon a 
li;i.j>py S;Lhl>:i.l,li. I wenL up l.o Ih'; ciimcli ami 



178 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



it was filled very well. Many of the women 
brought their children. I had spoken to them 
about it, and encouraged them to accustom 
their children to visit the house of God. The 
size of my audience cannot be much enlarged, 
because the house is filled, galleries and all. 
They listened very well, and seemed to under- 
stand and feel. I preached upon this : — 
* Take my yoke upon you, for my yoke is 
easy.' After service the people were very cor- 
dial, and seemed to think that I was their 
friend. 

" This afternoon we buried one of Captain 
Lincoln's men, and after I had spoken to them, 
I asked the captain to say something. I like 
to hear him. He is a good Christian man. 
From the graveyard y I went over to the other 
battalion, and held service there. I have lately 
got up a reading-room for the men. I gather 
the papers of the officers, after they have read 
them, and file them, and lay them on a table 
in one of the ordnance rooms. This will in- 
cite the men to study more." 

Again, on the 12th of April, he writes : — 
" As to the yellow fever, we do not expect it 
here this summer. The weather, thus far, has 



REGIMENT REMOVED TO KEY WEST. 179 



been very favorable. The city is being tlior- 
ouglily policed, and the quarantine regulations 
are rigid. But, after all, if it does come, we 
will commit ourselves to God. He will do 
well, and justly, and lovingly. We are try- 
ing to live unto him. I feel more and more 
like Paul wishing to give up everything for 
Christ." 

We are listening now to the last words that 
will come to us from this dear and loving 
brother ; and let us note particularly his beau- 
tiful spirit, and his earnest zeal for the Great 
Master, even to the very last. 

The three following passages are from letters 
bearing date, respectively, April 13th, 14th, 
and 17th. 

" I have just finished the study of the Epis- 
tle to the Galatians. I am trying to form an 
idea of the object and purport of every epistle, 
and finally of every book in the Bible. I 
think I am loving the work of a minister more 
and more. I am looking forward to the mis- 
sionary work with increasing pleasure. I 
want to give up all for Christ, to suffer -v^ith 
him, so as to conform to him. I want to emu- 
late and imitate Paul, the prisoner of Christ. 



180 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



My scholarship, my love of study, all this is 
too little to give to Christ. I wish I had more, 
I will try to have more, so as to give it to 
Christ. It is blessed. We should be willing 
to inherit the promised blessings and benedic- 
tions. There is a great dearth, or lack of the 
martyr spirit ; not that wliich comes from false 
religious pride, but from love of Christ. So, 
finding a large field of usefulness in this place, 
I am willing to labor, even at the risk of life, 
for Christ's sake." . ..." I have thought 
a little, to-day, of my talk to the men on Sun- 
day. I have studied, too, both Ephesians and 
Philippians. This morning I wrote to Miss M. 
about her Christian experience, urging her to 
give herself at once to Christ. I wanted to 
do something at once for Christ. This after- 
noon I have been around among the colored 
people, urging them to attend the church, — 
comforting the sick, explaining the means of 
salvation, arguing with a colored Catholic, 
commending the general industry and frugality 
of the blacks, conferring with committee-men 
about building a church and school-house for 
the blacks. Have I told you that I have or- 
ganized a writing class, for the non-commis- 



REGIMENT REMOVED TO KEY WEST. 181 



sioned officers, wliicli I meet every day, after 
dinner, in company B.'s mess-room ? I am 
trying to do a great deal, but accomplish little." 
. . . . " Saturday, in order to encourage 
the colored people to contribute toward the 
building of their church, I promised to se- 
cure one dollar for them for every five that 
they should raise. I can get this in the regi- 
ment and elsewhere. Tlie church is to bo 
used as a school-house, too. I think we must 
make these people help themselves, but en- 
courage them all we can by assisting them. 
The people are very depraved and vicious on 
this island. Drinking-saloons are numerous. 
Sabbath-breaking is almost the general practice. 
I think I shall be thoroughly initiated in the 
practical part of a minister's work." 

On the 19th of April he wrote a letter, from 
which we take the following brief passage : — 
" I have just returned from my writing- 
class. They are doing well, and seem to be 
interested. There are some very bright schol- 
ars among them; one of them, Richard B., is 
particularly so. Captain Lincohi has taken a 
class among the men, and hears them daily. 



182 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



He is one of the most active Cliristians I have 
ever met. I am perfectly well and happy." 

And here this story of Christian love and 
Christian labor suddenly stops. It must be 
left to others to give the sad and painful se- 
quel. 



I 



CHAPTER X. 

SUDDEN DEATH. — LETTERS OP CONDOLENCE. 

THE narrative of his life, as drawn from 
hiiDself, stops, as we have said, April 
19th ; but these earnest labors in behalf of 
others went on two days longer, until Thurs- 
day, April 21st, when he was suddenly stricken 
down with fever, and died on the following 
Tuesday, April 26th. Notwithstanding all the 
hope which had been expressed, the yellow 
fever was there early in the season, and the 
loving, laborious chaplain was among the first 
to fall. The same day on which he died, 
Capt. Lincoln breaks the sad intelligence in a 
letter to A : — 

"I^^yWest (Fla.), April 26, 1864. 

• . . . . "At the request of our chaplain, 
Mr. Schneider, I am about to write you. Last 
Thursday he was attending to his duties as 
usual, but towards evening complained of feel- 



184 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



ing unwell. He had severe pains in his back 
and limbs, and also in his head. Nearly all 
the night he was delirious, and had little rest. 
We called in our surgeon, 'who prescribed for 
him, but he did not seem to improve. Friday 
he was in much less pain but very weak. He 
continued so until Saturday ; then, by the doc- 
tor's orders, he was removed to the Post Hos- 
pital. I visited him there Sunday, and found 
he did not gain, although Sunday night he 
slept well and for a long time. Monday I 
again called to see him, and felt there was little 
chance of his recovery ; therefore^ at his re- 
quest, I sat down to write you, but retained 
the letter, because I wished to send you more 
favorable news. The mail not leaving, I kept 
it until this morning, and now I have to con- 
vey to you the sad intelligence that, last night, 
Mr. Schneider was called home to the good 
Father. "We prayed for him, and asked God, 
if it were possible, to restore him to health 
again ; but the Father hath taken him to him- 
self. 

" Monday, I visited him, in order to take any 
message ho might have to send to his loved 
ones at home ; but liis mind wandered, and I 



SUDDEN DEATH. 185 



could not talk to liim without exciting him 

greatly. You may be assured that he had 

loving friends here, who have done all they 

could to comfort and assist him, and who miss 

him as a brother. His loss is very great to us. 

We know it never can be replaced. None can 

work as he did, or take such an interest in 

those about him. 

" I pray that you in this great sorrow may 

find comfort and consolation in the Word of 

God. 

" Your friend, 

" Ben J. C. Lincoln, 

" Capt. 2d U. S. C. T. 

. " P. S. He died from that great scourge the 
yellow fever." 

The same day Lieutenant E-einhardt wrote 
to Rev. Mr. D wight, as follows : — 

"Key West (Fla.), April 26, 1864. 

"Rev. Mr. D wight: Dear Sir, — Li your 
present great affliction, occasioned by the death 
of your relative, the Rev. Mr. Schneider, it 
may be a comfort to his friends at home to 
know how universally beloved and respected 
he was in this regiment. 



186 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



" This is my motive in addressing a few linos 
to 3^ou, though I have not the pleasure of 
being personally acquainted with you. 

" Our chaplain*s death has spread a sadness 
over the whole regiment. Ilis earnest and de- 
voted Clu'istianity, his warm heart and gentle 
spirit, and his courteous manner have gained 
him the atlections and esteem of both oilicers 
and men. 

" My quarters being near his, I have enjoyed 
his society perhai)s as much as any of us, and 
many pleasant hours have I spent in conversa- 
tion with him. 

" The day before he was taken sick ho was 
urged by some officers to act as counsel, at a 
general court martial, for a man accused of 
murder, lie consented, and I, who was a 
member of the court, noticed that the case 
afTected and excited him somewhat. In the 
afternoon of the same day he attended the fu- 
neral of one of our men, and at the grave ho 
addressed his hearers with Jiis usual warmth 
and earnestness. It was his last public service, 
and I shall always remember the solemn words, 
in which he pointed out the Saviour, to whom 
his soul was so soon to take its flight. 



SUDDEN DEATH. 187 



" I will not aitcmpl to offer consolation. 
There is One, with whom both Mrs. Dwight 
and you are well acquainted, who can comfort 
you infinitely better. May lie be your com- 
fort now and forever. Assuring Mrs. Dvvight 
and you of my deep Kynij)atliy and esteem, 1 
am, dear sir, 

" Very respectfully, 

" Your obedient servant, 

" J. C. Reinuardt, 
" Lt. 2d Regt. U. S. Col. Troops." 

The man who wj'ote this tiiily neat, cour- 
teous Christian epistle, as niiglit be inferred 
from his name, was a (German, and, oidy a few 
weeks after, was called to Ijow to the grave 
before this same fell destroyer. 

The mail, wliich Ijrouglit the above letters, 
brought also the public letter to the " New York 
Herald," from its correspondent, Mr. Slack, sta- 
tioned at that time at Key West. His death 
was therefore announced in the " Herald," May 
5th, about the same time that the private letters 
reached J^]nglewood. The writer for the " Her- 
ald," speaking of his death, and glancing briefly 
at his early history, says : — "I heard Mr. 



188 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



Schneider preacli to a few companies of his 
swarthy congregation, on the green sward, be- 
fore the United States barracks, one evening, 
and I must certainly say that, without descend- 
ing to any low language, he adapted his words 
wonderfully to his audience. His sermon con- 
tained no points of abstract doctrine, nothing 
political, nothing to tickle. It was sound good 
common sense. In fact, it was a practical ser- 
mon, full of good advice to the men he ad- 
dressed. He will be buried, I believe, to-mor- 
row morning without any pomp or parade. 
Peace be to his ashes ! " 

Two days later. Major Townsend, who after- 
wards became colonel of the reG:iment, writes 
as follows : — 

" U. S. Barkacks, Key West (Fla.), April 28, 1864. 

"Rev. Mr. Dwigiit: Dear Sir, — It de- 
volves upon me, as the major of the regiment, 
to inform you of the sad fate of the late 
Chaplain James H. Schneider. Regrets are 
vain, but we wish to bear testimony to the 
respect and love we bore him. He was the 
light of the regiment, and it had scarce been 
lighted, ere the Lord has seen fit to extin- 



SUDDEN DEATH. 189 



guisli it. We can never supply his place. 
There is not one minister of the gospel in a 
thousand who would do the good that he 
has done in the regiment. There are exceed- 
ing few who are as well calculated to fill the 
same place, with the same degree of credit. 

" We mourn his loss and tender our sympa- 
thies to his bereaved relatives and friends at 
home. In writing thus, I feel that I do biit 
give expression to the sentiment of the entire 
regiment, officers and men 

" Mr. Schneider died on the morning of the 
26th inst., at three o'clock. The physicians 
differ in opinion as to the nature of the disease, 
some pronouncing it the yellow fever ; others 
are of a contrary opinion. The symptoms were 
in many respects those of the yellow fever. . . 

" I remain, with great respect and sympathy, 
" Your most obedient servant, 

" Ben J. R. Townsend, 
" Major 2d Rcgt. U. S. C. T." 

The doubts, which were at first expressed as 
to the nature of the disease, soon gave way 
before the fearful tide of events that followed. 



190 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



It was natural for men, situated as they were, 
to try and tUink this was not yellow fever. 

Col. Fellows, writing May 10th to his parents, 
says, in words ominously brief : — " Chaplain 
Schneider died, very suddenly, two weeks ago 
to-day. There is a diversity of opinion as to 
whether he had the fever or not." In this 
way Col. Fellows was trying, if possible, to 
qyiiet the fears of parents and of another, very 
dear to him, all of whom he knew would be 
full of trembling anxiety, now that they had 
heard of young Schneider's death. 

It devolved upon Rev. James H. Dwight, the 
elder brother, to transmit this sad news to Ain- 
tab. He writes as follows : — 

"Englewood, May 5, 18G4. 

" Dear Father, — The hand of God has again 
fallen heavily upon our family circle, and with 
deep sorrow I have t^ communicate the mes- 
sage which has just reached us from the army. 
Your son James has been removed from earthly 
scenes, for God has taken him to himself. 

" It has come upon us with a fearful sudden- 
ness, as it will to you. That one so noble and 
faithful in his zeal for God and for his country, 



SUDDEN DEATH. 191 



should be so early cut down in his youth, and 
the promise of great future usefulness in the 
earthly field of Christ's kingdom, where the 
faithful are so few, — be crushed by death, — 
is one of those mysteries before which we stand 
in awe, and can only meet, in our deep sadness, 
by humble submission to the will of the great 
Father. 

" It is not for me to urge the consolations of 
Christ, to one of your experience in commun- 
ion with the Blessed Master, in hou.rs of trial. 
But I may tell you that James was faithful to 
the end, endearing himself to all around him, 
and dies lamented greatly by the officers and 
men of his regiment. 

" He had obtained among them a noble name 
for his earnestness in the ministry of the gos- 
pel." [We omit details already stated in let- 
ters from Key West.] 

" His last letters have been very cheerful, and 
he urged repeatedly that there was no danger 
from yellow fever, as it had not appeared. He 
must have been one of the first victims. Our 
information is through a Capt. Lincoln, who 
was one of his best friends, is a good Christian 
brother, and was with him much of the time. 



192 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



" As you may iinagino, tlio blow lias l\xllen 
with fearful weight upon our dear sister A — 
. . Her heart was bound up in him, and she 
has been laboring for some time under a pre- 
sentiment that he would never return. Eliza 
is sustained by her care and anxiety for A — . 

" I have known but few young men of his 
age who seemed to combine so many great and 
good qualities as James. He was above all 
things deeply pious and fdled with the noblest 
purposes. Added to this was a strong intel- 
lect, cultivated and rich ; for he has always im- 
proved his privileges. We have had reason to 
expect that he would make a powerful and elo- 
quent preacher. lie was amiable in all his 
dealings with those around him, and endeared 
himself to every one that knew him. What 
more can I say ? 

" He is now with the other loved ones who 
have gone before, and soon we shall meet him 
and them in that l)lesscd land where no more 
death can enter. I must now close. You will 
receive other letters soon, and we will give you 
whatever particulars may reach us. 

" All the rest arc well, and send much love to 



SUDIJKN DIOATII. 193 



all. William ainl Eddio were well at the last 
datcH. 

" Your affectionate son, 

" James H. Dwight." 

]>iit we must go l>ack for a moment to Key 
West ; foi' this death was but the beginning of 
sorrows there. The disease went on its way, 
ra,pidly strikiiig down one and another of the 
officers of the regiment. On the 15tli of May, 
Col. Fellows writes liis last letter home, and 
in it, though he tried hard to Ijc cheerful and 
of good courage, it was plain to be seen that 
he felt the awfully depressing influence of the 
place. His regiment had been in a measure 
scattered, — some parts of it having been sent 
in one direction and another, inland, on vari- 
ous expeditions. He says : — "I am not very 
desirous of seeing bloody fields, or of active 
service. 1 do not long for it ; and yet I jnust 
confess that I should like to )j(i put in some 
position where I would liave more duties to at- 
tend to, and not be lelt to the wilting of this 
hot sun of Key West. I would like to sec my 
regiment together again, as it was on Ship Isl- 
and, and not scattered over one hundred 

13 



lOi JAMES II. SCIINKIDEU. 



miles of Florida." Hardly had this letter been 
despatched to the north, when lie, too, fell snd- 
denly before this terrifie disease, — the only 
son and eldest child of his falher's house, — 
greatly beloved in his own home, and dear as 
life itself to another, -whose fortunes and hopes 
were bound up in him. 

A second letter from Capt. Lincoln, written 
June 15th, will inore fully exi)lain the circum- 
stances of Mv. Schneider's death, and will at 
the same time j^ive us a glimpse of" what had 
since been passing there. 

" Kr.v Wkst {Vl\.), June ir», 1804. 

. . " You may think that I have taken too 
long to answer your letter of the 17th of May. 
But you will be satisfied it was not from lack 
of inclination, when 1 inform you that I have 
been sick Avith the fever which has proved so 
fatal to so many of (nir oHicers. 

"Since our late chaplain died, wc have lost 
our colonel, Capt. Reinhardt {Init lately pro- 
moted), and three lieutenants, besides our sut- 
ler, and one lieutenant is still very sick. 
Every olVicer that has been in the fort for any 
length of time, with one exception, has been 



SUDDEN DEATH. 195 



sick with lli(3 disease, and no oilicrs : so it 
would seein that sometliing in the fort occa- 
sioned the ci)idcmic. I presume more than 
five hundred men were sick, but only four of 
the men died. It seldom proves fatal to col- 
ored men. 

" You ask mo if Mr. Schneider was exposed 
to the disease. I think that being in the fort 
is sufficient reason for his sickness. I believe, 
however, tliat, a short time before his death, ho 
was present when two of our surgeons excwn- 
ined the body of a soldier who had died very 
suddenly, and it is proba})lc tliat tliis was a 
case of yellow fever ; and his ])cing present at 
the poHt mortem may have caused the sickness 
of Mr. S., althougli he would have liad it sub- 
sequently, I think, because, as I before men- 
tioned, every officer, except one, (juartered in 
the fort, has had the disease. You ask if Mr. 
>S. apprehended death. The very first evening 
of his sickness, in his delirium, he talked about 
the yellow fever, and afterward, altliough tho 
surgeons did not for some time consider it a 
case of this kind, Mr. S persisted in believing 
it to be yellow fever, which was the case. lie 
suffered very much at times, during his illness, 



19G JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



and his case was the most violent of any our 
surgeons have attended. 

" I think it was the second day of his sick- 
ness he requested me to write you, giving mo 
your address. He said, ' Write her as cheer- 
ful as you can.' I do not think he thought, 
at that time, that he would die ; if he had, ho 
would have sent some last words to you. Af- 
ter his illness became more alarming, I dared 
not speak to him of you, because I knew it 
would make him much worse. In this disease 
the mind has a remarkable influence upon the 
body, and when the patient gets the idea into 
his head that he will not recover, no medicine 
can save him. As he (Mr. S.) was very ner- 
vous, I did not care to increase it by talking to 
him. The day before lie died I did go to the 
hospital for the purpose of receiving any mes- 
sage he might wish to send to you and his 
friends ; but his mind wandered, and I could 

not talk to him And now I have 

written all I can recollect in regard to the last 
days of our loved friend. I would I could see 
you a short time, and then I could perhaps 
answer many questions it is not easy for yoii 
to ask in a letter. If I come north this fall, 



SUDDEN DEATH. 197 

as I hope to do, I will, if possible, call upon 
you, and if ever I can be of service to you, 
in any way, I shall be most happy, for the es- 
teem and regard which I had for our chaplain. 
I always speak of him as < our chaplain,' be- 
cause I admired him for his faithfulness in 
that position, and have seen the good work 
which he has performed in our regiment. . . 
"Please remember me to Mr. and Mrs. 
D wight. 

" Your sincere friend, 

" Benj. C. Lincoln." 

The following tender and sympathetic letter 
came from a college classmate : — 

" Hudson, N. Y., May 23, 1864. 

" My dear Mr. Dwight, — Yours of the 7th 
instant, containing the mournfully terrible, sad 
intelligence and particulars of James's death, 
came to me duly. Bat my pen has not moved 
easily to a reply. 

" There were so many years of our intimate 
acquaintance ; so much life-history which we 
had made together; so much that neither 
could ever forget ; so much that has now be- 



198 JAMES n. SCHNEIDER. 



come tender memory; so much thought of him 
now ; so much that it woiihl be a mournful 
pleasure to say to those who are so crushingly 
bereaved, — that I do not know how to say any- 
thing, and have it only the little that can be 
put in a letter 

" I ought not to speak of my own sense of 
loss to those Avho have lost a brother, and to 
her who has lost — all. May God help her, is 
our earnest prayer. We both send to her, and 
to yourself and wife, and to James's brothers, 
our deep sympathy ; and our hearts go across 
the sea where this blow will fall so heavily. 

" I have never lost a friend so intimate be- 
fore. We were cJiians during most of my An- 
dover days, and even more intimate at Yale. 
I knew him thoroughly. lie confided every- 
thing to me, — much that he never trusted to 
any other, as he used often to say. How 
many hours we spent together ! I never knew 
either of my brothers half so fully as I knew 
James 

" How hard it is to realize that he will not 
come again ! I used to know his step, on the 
llag-walk near my room, from any other ; 
but, I fear I am writing childishly. 1 cannot 



SUDDEN DEATH. 199 



well write manfully of him now. And you 
all have bo mucli greater burden to bear, you 
will hardly think i have any place among those 
who mounj i'()r hiin ; but lie was so near to me, 
he seems a large part of my history. 

" How much yon all have to comfort you in 
view of his rare Christian character, you know 
well. 1 can truly say, I know no classmate 
so ready to die as James. It is saying much, 
but not at all too much. When he was ia 
Hudson, last year, I was more than ever im- 
pressed with the earnestness and thoroughness 
of his Christian life. I always considered his 
whole character one of remarkable simplicity 
and sincerity ; and what is rarer in this world 
than simplicity of character ? But I need not 
write tlius to you, wlio know Jiim so well. 
May lie, who ouly can, lielp you aJl to boar 
tills heavy load of Horrow. 

" Say to A (we always call her so), tliat 

we shall not forget her in our prayers. What 
else can we say to her ? Mrs. McKay will 

write to her 

" Yours, sincerely. 

'' K. DeCost McKay." 



200 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



This mournful news readied Aiiitab Juno 
lltli, and Dr. Sclmcider writes in reply, for- 
getting, in a measure, his own grief, in his 
effort to comfort others : — 

" AiNTAB, June U, 18G4. 

" My DARLING Daughter Eliza, — Since the 
startling news of dear James's death reached 
us, June 11th, I have thought much of you. 
I know you will feel the bereavement as keen- 
ly as any of us. The death of dear Susie was 
a very heavy stroke to you. Then came the 
death of your darling babe. And now, so un- 
expectedly and suddenly, has your much-loved 
brother been called home. All these sorrows 
have come to you with great bitterness and 
j^oignancy. Your tender and sympathetic na- 
ture, I know, must feel all this very deeply. 
But while you must and will feel desolate, re- 
member, my dear child, that, as even so small 
an event as the falling of a sparrow occurs not 
without our heavenly Father's notice ; so, an 
event like this, affecting so many of His own 
children, and especially in your case so directly, 
has not occurred without His direct intei'ference. 
' He is too wdse to err, too good to be luikind.' 



SUDDEN DEATH. 201 



There arc also very" many attending circum- 
stances which alleviate tlie bitterness of the 
cup. Your mind will easily call them uj). 
My heart bleeds, almost, as I think of the thou- 
sands, all over our land, who have l)een called 
upon to mourn those who have fallen in the 
recent battles without giving any evidence of 
preparedness. We, on the other hand, have 
the most comforting hope of James. Dear 
child, lift up your eyes to the everlasting hills ; 
exercise faith in Cod, — in his goodness and 
mercy. Believe that, in some way which we 
cannot now see, his death will be for the good 
of Christ's work and for God's glory. Do not 
constantly look on the dark side of the picture, 
but also on the bright one, for it has some 
comforting views. I wish I could be with you 
to speak some words of comfort to your heart. 
Well, I can pray for you, and this 1 do. Your 
dear Aunt Susie feels the stroke most deeply. 
She had become deeply attached to James, 
and mourns for him as for a first-born. I 
have great anxiety for Eddie. As far as I am 
informed, he is in Burnside's corps; and in 
the severe fight near Spotsylvania, Tuesday, 
May 10th, it is said, ' Buniside precipitated his 



202 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



whole command upon the rebels, and terribly- 
cut them up.' I suppose Eddie must have been 
in this fight, and, if he escaped without a 
wound or death, we shall have great cause for 
gratitude. I am very anxious to get our next 
letters and papers, to learn the particulars. 
Our American dates go up as far as May 14th. 
As I have foreseen, the campaign will be the 
bloodiest of the whole series. May it make an 
end of slavery, and the blessings of peace soon 
follow ! You, or some of you, must not fail to 
tell us all about Willie and Eddie. The ex- 
tracts from their letters are exceedingly inter- 
esting to us. Love to all. 

" Your sympathizing 

" Father.'' 

In closing this chapter, we must make a few 
extracts from one letter more, which tells its 
own sad and pitiful tale : — 

" My precious Father and Mother, — May 
I call you by these dear names ? My heart 
clings to you in its great sorrow, — turned 
to you at once, so soon as I could think 
of any one ; for, in the suddenness of the first 



SUDDEN DEATH. 203 



bitter grief, I seemed almost paralyzed, as if 
my life must go with his. . . . Just when 
life seemed so bright and beautiful, — Avhen 
the cherished hopes of years seemed just about 
to be realized, in an instant they were all 
blighted. . . . The hardest thing has been 
that I could have no last word, — nothing after 
those letters written in perfect health. I have 
felt, if I could only have been with him in the 
hours of sickness and death, or even, if this 
had been denied me, if I might know just 
what his views and feelings were in those last 
hours, — could have received some parting 
message, — I could not ask more. But I must 
not ask this. God has afflicted me, and he 
has done it in his own way. We must see that 

it is his own work 

" Tlie thought may come to you, as it did to 
me, was it right for him to enter the army ? 
But I cannot doubt it. Even you, dear Aunt 
Susie, would not doubt, could you read his let- 
ters written at the time, and see how strong 
were his convictions that he should go. I have 
read over all his letters (my treasures), and 
I see that he first thought seriously of it a year 
ago last summer, after his return from Lake 



204 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



George, wliile lie was studying at Bridge water, 
a week or two before the term commenced. 
One afternoon he devoted entirely to thinking 
of it, and he decided that it was not his pres- 
ent duty to go. Eddie seemed to be then the 
principal cause of his so deciding. But he 
felt that, in staying, he was solemnly called to 
live more earnestly and faithfully, and the last 
year at Bridgcwatcr was a witness of the ac- 
complishment of this. lie was anxious, and 
labored for the conversion of his scholars as 
never befol'c. Tlion, when the draft was antic- 
ipated last summer, for weeks before, he 
wrote of it, always saying he should go if he 
were drafted. And it was a subject of prayer 
with us both, and we felt that it would be 
God's call if indeed he were drafted. But he 
did not really think he should be ; and the 
question was a very painful one Avhen it came, 
especially as he had to decide contrary to the 
opinions of some of his dearest friends. Ilcr 
thought he would not go, at first ; but was very 
unhappy in this, — felt that it was wrong. 
When, however, he finally decided to go, he 
did not waver for one moment, — was perfect- 



SUDDEN DEATH. 205 



\y happy ; and I think his last seven months 
were the happiest of his life 

" My heart aches for you, ... for 
I know how you have for many years looked 
forward to his joining you in your work. .How 
your hearts have rested in liim ! . . . . 
And then I have been rebuked in fearing that 
you would be overwhelmed with grief, — in 
doubting that God would grant his sustaining 
grace to you, his well-tried servants, when ho 
has so mercifully given it to me. Oh, I never 
knew before, the preciousness of a Saviour's 
love ! It has been everything to me. With- 
out this, there was no comfort. It seems im- 
possible to me that one could live tlu^ougli 
such a trial without the Saviour's love to sus- 
tain. ... 

" Eliza is very precious. She seems almost 
sacred to me now, as the nearest James. Much 
as I have always loved her, she is far dearer 
now. Perhaps it will be some comfort to you 
to know that all a sister can do for her it will 
be always my greatest joy to do, and I think 
it may be permitted me, in the years to come, 



to do much to liditen her toils. I love to do 



'to 



for her as for no one else. In those first sor- 



Ii00> 



J.UIKS H. sruM'ini'K. 



row fill (l;ivs sho dv\C(\ \wv own loars for my 
saUo,- Km'i iM iM-vlhiu!\- aiul I'anii* honiowidi 
ini\ niul siavoil i>\iM' Smulay, aiul oomrortoil 
nu* moi'i* than any one l^l^;o rouKl. C\od will 
M(\">s hor." .... 



(;iiAi"ii':R. xj. 

TJiBTIMON'IALB Oi" ri.AHHMATKH AN'J> YAiilOUH 

li'jism. 

IT'OIl two or t.liff;'; oljajjt/irH t^ack, tljo work 
of lirifoldin^^ Uic charact/jr and 1 1 f'; -1 j i?! to ry 
of youijj/ Hchnoidcr, han fK;f;rj takr;n /naiuly 
iVojii IIjc Ija/jfJHof* tlio writor, arjd cijtru'-t';'i to 
otlK:!"-;. Wo hav^. kuov/n of no tnior or bettor 
way oi" Uiuk\u'/ knowu wJiat ho wan than f>y 
all^win^^ him to toll his own Htory, and ];<;/- 
mittln^ tlioHO f'rooly to BfKjak wJio wore inti- 
maUJy aHKOciatod witlj hinj. Ijj thin closing 
chaptor wo hhall pJirnuo tho narrjo irjothod. 

These teHtimonialn will co/rjo from various 
diroetioHH, hut thoy will all h';ar oonoliihively 
ujjon the name great point. Home of thene 
iriight, witli perfect propriety, Ijave heen intro- 
duced into t})e f^reviouH chapter, an being hit- 
ters of eondoience, written fioon after liis 
death. iJut in making our f-election of pa:-;- 

'207; 



208 JAMBS H. SCHNEIDER. 



sages from tins class of communications, we 
shall aim, as a general rule, to omit that wliich 
is merely sympathetic, and take those parts 
which bear testimony as to his character. 
Others of these papers have been furnished by 
request that they might find a place in this 
Tolumc. 

We will first make some extracts from let- 
ters written at Bridgcwater, or by persons who 
had known him at Bridgewater. 

Mrs. I. W. Boyden, wife of the principal, 
writes, under date of May 12th, 1864 : — 
" We feel that a beloved brother has gone 
from us. Three years of mutual labor and 
interest greatly endeared Mr. Boyden and 
Mr. Schneider to each other, and I do not 
think that the* tidings of the death of an own 
brother would have so overcome Mr. B. as 

this His pupils here feel his 

death very severely ; and the impression made 
upon his scholars, the church here, and many 
more, by his life, his teachings, and his ear- 
nest prayers, I feel, will never be obliterated. 
None who knew him here, but loved him more 
than an ordinary friend. In the church, on 
Sunday, when his death was announced, there 



TESTIMONIALS. 209 



were few eyes but wept. Old men and wo- 
men, who had never spoken with him, but 
who had heard him say, ' Our Father,' in the 
prayer-meeting, wept as if they had lost a 
close friend, and those who knew him inti- 
mately felt that a brother beloved had been 
taken from them. Miss Comstock and myself 
were speaking of him, and of his labors for and 
with his pupils, and she said : * He was ripen- 
ing for heaven, and why did not we know it ? 
Our eyes were holden, that we should not see 
it until now.' But, oh, how glad we all are, 
and ever shall be, that we knew him so well, — 
that we had his influence and his example and 
his affectionate interest ! " 

Miss L. Comstock, a teacher at Bridgewa- 
ter, referred to in the foregoing communica- 
tion, writes on the same day. May 12th : — 
"" My woman's heart goes out to you with 
such a strong, resistless flow of sympathy, in 
this hour of your great sorrow, that I cannot 
forbear its expression. ... . The cloud, 
which rests so heavily upon you, spreads far 
and wide, for few Avere valued and loved as he 
was. Trembling words and tearful faces give 
daily proof of the hold he had upon the aflec- 



210 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



tioiis of those who came within the reach of 
his influence. That influence ! — do you know 
what a power it was, stimulating, elevating, 
purifying those who looked to him as a teach- 
er ? I thank God he has given me one such 
friend, and has let me see how an earnest, no- 
ble, Christian man can live." 

Miss E. B. Woodward, another teacher, writes, 
on the nation's anniversary day, Jul}^ 4th : — 
" My heart has yearned towards joii in these 
long weeks in which you have been struggling 
with the bitter waters ; but I have shrunk from 
offering you words of comfort, knowing there 
are griefs too bitter for human sympathy, when 
even the voices of dearest friends seem almost 
to mock the desolation ; and when the great- 
ness and the suddenness of the blow make 
the heart dumb before Him who dealt it, until 
it can open itself to the divine consolation. 
. . . . You probably heard from James 
of the manner in which he spent this anni- 
versary in the two last years ; and as I turn 
my thoughts to the gathering in the same place 
to-day, the scenes of last year come before me, 
and I hear again the eloquent, burning words, 
by which he pledged himself to his country, if 



TESTIMONIALS. 211 



she should call for him. It seems a long year 
since then ; and how full it has been ! A life- 
time almost was crowded into it for many. I 
think there was for James. I think his life, 
which seemed constantly to increase in ear- 
nestness from the time I first knew him, 
•was intensified from that time. I interpreted 
it that his Clnistian zeal urged him to unusual 
faithfulness in prospect of a change of rela- 
tions, — leaving us for Yale, — but a letter 
from Miss Kilbourn says, ' I wonder we did 
not know he was finishing his last work.' " 

Miss E. P. Daman, a daughter in the family 
where he boarded, in Bridgewater, gives the 
following tender and touching tribute to his 
memory : — " Wlien the news reached us 
of Mr. Schneider's death, our hearts gave a 
great throb of agony, and we looked in each 
other's faces, saying, wjth quivering voices, 
' Not our Mr. Schneider, — it cannot be.' . . . 
Not until we knew that we should see his face 
here no more, did we realize how closely he was 
associated with our daily life. Our Sabbath 
evening songs, which we always sang after tea, 
are all reminders of him ; and in many of thera 
we can almost hear his voice, as we used to. 



212 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



Ill my little flower-garden, at the table, and 
in nearly every room in the house, we find 
something that reminds us of some kind word 
or act ; for his kindness was unfailing. It 
was not permitted him to leave any last words, 
but they were not needed. The testimony of 
his whole life is sufficient. No one could 
know him as we did, and see the beautiful 
simplicity of his daily life, — the earnest Chris- 
tian spirit that showed itself at all times and 
in all circumstances, without feeling that he 
was ready for the summons to ^ come up high- 



er.' " 



Miss Mary E. Robinson, one of his pupils, 
writes from East Dennis, Mass., Jan. 14th, 1865. 
She says : — "I was a member of the Normal 
School, at Bridgewater, during the last eighteen 
months of Mr. Schneider's connection with it. 
I was also a ;nember of his Bible-class. As I 
look back upon those months I feel grateful 
to my heavenly Father that I was permitted 
to go there, and, most of all, that I was allowed 
to know Mr. S. so well, — to associate with 
him, — to be influenced by him. I had been 
there but a short time before I learned to ad- 
mire him as a scholar ; next, to honor and re- 



TESTIMONIALS. 213 



spect him as a teacher; and, finally, to love him 
as a kind and sympathizing Christian friend. 
Words alone can never express what I owe to 
him." 

The following, which is in some sense an 
accidental tribute, will be read with mnch in- 
terest : — 

"East Bloomfield, N. Y., July 25, 1864. 

"Rev. B. Schneider, D. D.: Dear Sir, — 
Allow me to introduce myself as an officer of 
the 2d U. S. Colored Troops, — as a friend and 
companion, and, at Key West, a room-mate 
of your son James. Dr. William Goodell 
preached here a few Sabbaths since, and, learn- 
ing that I had sustained such relations to your 
son, advised me to write you. I do so with 
great pleasure, for I hold James's memory as 
sacred ; and I rejoice to be able to bestow up- 
on a missionary of Christ any consolation or 

joy. 

" My acquaintance with James begins with 
his joining the regiment, as second lieuten- 
ant, last autumn, at Camp Casey, Va. He 
at once became known as an active Christian, — 
organizing a prayer-meeting, and, by personal 



214 JAMES II. SCHNEIDEll. 



effort, gathering the officers into it. It was 
his earnest piety that first suggested to us that 
he woukl make a good chaphiin ; and that 
position was accordingly very soon offered him. 
Besides the services of the Sabbath, James 
began a prayer-meeting for the men, and also 
schools for every evening (not given to the 
officers' or men's prayer-meetings), the object 
of which was teaching the colored men to 
read and write, etc. No Sabbath preaching, 
no prayer-meeting, no school was ever neg- 
lected or dropped. It was a sacrifice for him 
to forego his evenings, which might have been 
devoted to study ; but he yielded them willingly. 
It was not pleasant (so others thought) to 
make one's tent a public place ; but our chaj)- 
laiu fitted up nide seats in his tent, and wel- 
comed every soldier that came for aid or in- 
struction. 

" During the winter at Ship Island, Miss., 
he continued the schools, etc., and was mainly 
instrumental in organizing a debating-club, 
which continued during our stay on the island. 
James was our best debater. He spoke point- 
edly, and had always given the subject a careful 
study. He always spoke as if he were in 



TESTIMONIALS. 215 



search of the truth, and not for the sake of 
controversy, or to gain the decision for his 
* side.' And I may here remark that he was 
singularly candid and truthful in character. 
He did not assume to know or to be what he 
knew not, or what he was not. I have of- 
ten talked with him upon his peculiar work 
among these colored men, — upon the best 
method of influencing them religiously and 
intellectually. He used to visit their private 
company prayer-meetings, which they carried 
on in their own way ; but he at length decided 
that his presence was a damper upon their 
over-fervid exercises, and he left them to them- 
selves, endeavoring, at the weekly prayer-meet- 
ing and upon the Sabbath, gradually to give 
them higher and truer notions of worship. 
Thus he was ever studying what to do and 
how to do it. 

" At Key West, feeling that too few of the 
men could be under his own instruction, he 
formed the plan of hiring those that could read 
to teach those that could not, giving each teacher 
a class, and paying him three dollars per month, 
from the regimental fund. I was told that 
some tln'ee hundred of the men had learned 



210 JAMES II. SCHNEIDER. 



to read since the organization of the regi- 
ment. 

" James also started a reading-room for the 
men. Two or three weeks before his death I 
was ordered to New Orleans, and he sent by 
me for school-books, and also earnestly re- 
quested me to get some entertaining reading 
matter for the men. 

" It was a great object with him to educate 
the men, — to develop their minds as a means 
of every kind of good to them. 

" I was taken with the fever on board the 
boat, and after a long sickness was sent north, 
and never saw James again. I remember, just 
before my departure, that, at a prayer-meeting, 
James said in eflect: — 'We are now living 
where life is very uncertain, and this should 
make us live for Jesus more earnestly than 
ever." 

" James preached to the colored people of 
Key West, at the Baptist church. It was an 
unpopular thing ; but he never thought of poi> 
idarity, — he must do Christ's work. I have 
heard that the men felt the chaplain's death 
deeply. They knew that he was their friend, — 



TEBTIMONIALS. 217 



and no officer had such a hold upon the affec- 
tions of tlic regiment. 

" 1 remember going with Jamen, at various 
times, to gather shells, and in search of llie 
animal wonders of the sea. lie was very fond 
of such studies, and had collected quite an 
assortment of such curiosities. He had a little 
work of Professor Agassiz, upon Natural His- 
tory, which he was studying; but he told mo, 
one day, that lie must give up tliis outside 
study, and devote himself entirely to his work. 
As his room-mate, I can say that I think he 
never neglected or put off secret prayer and 
the study of the liible. in fact, he devoted 
much time to this study, and seiit to New Or- 
leans, by me, for jjarnes's Notes on some of 
tlie Epistles. 

" As I thus think over the course of 
your son, I am struck with his straight- 
forward and persevering character, — his uni- 
form consistency. I shall cherish his mem- 
ory, and feel that I liave been taught a les- 
son wliicii, Cod grant, may do me lasting 
good. 

'' May Ciod support you, sir, in your douljle 
aflbction. 



218 JAMES n. SCHNEIDER. 



" Many Christians in this country are sym- 
pathizing with and praying for you. God will 
administer his own consolations. 

" I learn that James, while delirious with 
the fever, spoke Turkish. I suppose, however, 
that you have learned more fully of his last 
sickness than I have. 

" May God bless you and your labors, is the 
prayer of 

" E. P. Adams." 

S. H. Taylor, LL. D., Principal of Phillips 
Academy, Andover, furnishes the following 
brief but explicit statement : — " James 
Schneider was a member of Phillips Acade- 
my about two years, at which he completed, 
in 185G, his course of study, preparatory for 
college. When he entered the academy he 
was diffident and modest almost to a fault. 
On this account his real merits, as a schol- 
ar, were not, at first, fully appreciated, as 
he had not always sufficient confidence in 
himself to show, at his recitations, all that he 
knew of them. But his teachers and fellow- 
students soon learned that his quiet and mod- 
est style of reciting was not to be taken as 



TESTIMONIALS. 219 



evidence that lie was not master of his subject. 
Others, by their fluency and full self-posses- 
sion, might show, at times, to better advan- 
tage ; but, when it came to the close question- 
ing and the sharp analysis, he was rarely if 
ever found wanting. He was an independent 
scholar ; lie thought and investigated for him- 
self. He was a diligent student ; he made the 
best use of his time, not studying by spasms 
and then relaxing all effort, as is too often the 
case in the earlier course of study. When he 
left the academy to enter college, he ranked 
as the third scholar in a class of fifty-five. 

" In his general character, as well as in his 
studies, he was a model scholar, — gentle, 
kind, respectful, attentive to every duty that 
belongs to a pupil. So punctual was he at all 
his exercises, so blameless and orderly, that I 
cannot remember an instance when there was 
anything in his general deportment and spirit 
that I could have wished otherwise. 

" Such traits and excellences won for him 
the fullest confidence and the highest respect 
of all who knew him ; and his subsequent suc- 
cess as a scholar in college, and the respect in 
which he was there held, and his readiness to 



220 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



devote liis life to the service of his country, 
will not surprise any one who knew him as a 
school-boy here." 

The following clear and emphatic testimo- 
ny is from a classmate, E. DeCost McKay, 
whose letter, in the previous chapter, will be 
remembered. From his long-continued and 
most intimate relations, no one is better en- 
titled to speak on this subject than he : — 
" James Henry Schneider was my most inti- 
mate friend. I knew him as I shall never 
know another. I knew him at Andover, at 
Phillips Academy, — "Old Phillips," — while 
preparing for college. He was there before me, 
and when I entered, — for the first time in my 
life from home, at school, and far away, among 
entire strangers, — the first smile and the first 
kind act came from him and made us friends. 
We were soon chums. ^Yo boarded together 
at the old Excelsior Club ; at opposite sides of 
the same table we prepared every lesson in the 
Andover course. And so at Yale : together 
in Alumni Hall we passed the dreaded exami- 
nation for admission to that institution. We 
took our meals side by side at the same table, 



TESTIMONIALS. 221 



in the never to-be-forgotten Mackerel Club. 
We joined the same societies, — ,the same boat- 
ing club ; taught in the same Sabbath school, 
— a colored mission school ; and, as our circle 
of intimate friends was to a great extent the 
same, were thrown together in innumerable 
associations, which now come thronging back 
to mind and fill the heart. He used often, at 
Yale, to come late in the evening to my room 
for a talk. (We were not chums in college.) 
He was too busy to come often ; but when 
something special was on his mind, or he was 
very wearied, he was sure to come, and, as I 
sat in my room, I could always hear his coming 
step, at some distance, sounding distinctly on 
the flagging. I knew that step as well as I 
knew the sound of the chapel bell. It is so 
vivid now ! It seems impossible to believe that 
years have come and gone since then, and that 
he has gone with them. I knew everything 
he knew of his life, — and of himself more than 
he knew. I knew the minutest details of his 
early life in heathen lands ; of his long pas- 
sage, by sail, to America ; of his first school- 
days at Thetford Academy, Yermont ; of liis 
-entire life at Andovcr and Yale ; his charac- 



222 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



ter, liis aims, hopes, fears ; tlie influences that 
guided and made him ; his religious life and 
progress ; his after-college plans, till he heard 
the voice of God calling him, born in the East, to 
the grand army of the Republic of the West, — 
all, and so much more not easily narrated, I 
knew. 

" He was, emphatically, a child of prayer. 
The greatest power with him was his mother's 
prayers ; and they were an ever-present influ- 
ence. They gave the key-note of his own re- 
ligious life. I presume he never for a day 
forgot them. He seldom spoke of them, — but 
always in a way that showed their power over 
his life and aspirations. Every day of his life, 
before coming to America to be educated, she 
used to take him with her to her closet to pray 
with and for him. He never forgot those 
scenes and those prayers. He used to speak 
of the last ones, and the last one before she 
gave him up to years of separation, during his 
education in this country. There are other 
missionary mothers who know something of 
such prayers. These did not go unanswered. 
He became thoroughly religious. Not that he 
ever dreamed that so much was justly to be 



TESTIMONIALS. 223 



said of liin, for lie was so distrustful of his own 
heart and progress in the Christian life, as at 
times to cause great depression. In fact, dis- 
trust of self— of his motives, abilities, acquire- 
ments, — was one of his leading traits. His 
standard was the true one, and, of course, he 
felt himself far short of what he ought to be. 
Yet he was heartily and earnestly a Christian, 
in the fiillest sense of the word. He did 
everything from Christian principle. Every 
lesson was a work for God. His Christianity 
permeated every act. He was a Christian stu- 
dent. Though always fond of a mirthful occa- 
sion, his habitual mood was serious. He was 
in earnest in everything. As a student, he 
was one of the most industrious, earnest, and 
patiently laborious I ever knew. 

" He never made a recitation that was not 
perfect. He was inexorable in his demands 
upon himself. The utmost exactness and thor- 
oughness of preparation for every recitation 
and every task was the least he would accept 
from himself. And yet I suppose it can be 
said that he actually never went into the reci- 
tation-room without fear"* and trembling. 

" He loved exactness, and was miserable 



224 JAMES 11. SOUNEIDKU. 



over half-kuowledge. Ho strove for a high 
stand in his ch\ss, but had uo petty rivahy in 
it. It was his duty to do his best. And I e4\u 
testily that a desire to gratify his pai*euts and 
sisters was a powerful iuotive, with other high- 
er ones. lie loved to go the botton\ ot* every- 
thing, — to know the reason why. 

*• Sueh thoroughness told upon his scholar- 
ship. At Audover and at Yale he was admit- 
ted by his rivals to be the best Greek, and 
probably was the best Latin, scholar in his 
class. Had he been as loud ot* uiatheniaties 
and of English composition as o[' the classics, 
he could not have failed of the valedictory. 
He lacked in college somewhat of the genex*al 
culture that many students seek for iu col- 
lege. Ho spent almost no time in general 
reading. He longed for knowledge ; but that 
was to come after college discipline. The 
Bible, Webster's Pietionary, and one or two 
standard books were the extent of his col- 
lection of books, until near the end of the 
course. He believed that a college course 
is designed to call out and perfect the ma- 
chinery of the mind, — to give working power, 
— not to store the mind thou and there. 



TKBTIMONIALS. 225 



Yet Ills desire for knowledge was a perfect 
1j linger aiid thirst. As a K[Xiaker he would 
liave excelled, with the practice he would Iiave 
had. lie was surpassed hy few in naturalness 
and expressiveness of gesture, and received a 
prize in college for sj;>eaking. During tlie 
weekly gathering of the students for declama- 
tion, wlien at Andover, his name was called 
hy mistake, — it was not his turn to speak till 
the next week, — hut he answered the call, to 
my great surprise, as I knew he had Itardly se- 
lected his ' piece ' for the next week, and liad 
not made tlie slightest preparation ; hut he 
went to the platform with an unusual confi- 
dence, and gave a most impassioned apj;>eal in 
tlie Turkish language, taking, as he afterwards 
explained, words without connection or sense, 
if translated, hut given with all the earnest- 
ness of expression and gesture imaginable. 
It brought down the Jiouse tremendously, con- 
trary to all rules, and saved him the trouble 
of preparing an English piece. A tutor at 
Yale once remarked to me, that, the first time 
he ever heard Schneider's voice in recitation, 
at the commencement of the c^jllege course, 
]i<t knew, from sometliiug indefmal^ly oriental 



226 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



in his voice and manner, that he was from the 
eastern hemisphere. Not only in scholarship 
was high excellence his unswerving ainij but 
in whatever he undertook. He was president 
of his class, presiding at all the many business 
meetings of the class in senior year with sur- 
prising ability. lie was a most enthusiastic 
gymnast and boatman, striving as always for 
the highest excellence. 

" As a man, a friend, a companion, he was 
always kind, genial, frank, with none of the 
so-called small vices ; had a modest bearing, 
that made him friends everywhere. lie never 
had an enemy, and certainly had the high es- 
teem of every one who knew him. His attach- 
ments were strong. To his mother, father, 
sisters, and brothers his whole heart went out, 
and he ' loved with a love which was more 
than love.' His mother's death soon after ho 
entered college had a great effect upon him ; 
and, later, the sudden death of a most tenderly 
loved sister was almost too great for him to 
bear. I have known many brothers devotedly 
attached to sisters, but I never knew of an in- 
stance of so great an influence exerted by sis- 
ters as by his. Their letters were a constant 



TESTIMONIALS. 227 



and marked stimulus. In the death of one of 
them and in the death of his mother he jcxpc- 
rienced the deepest affliction, and knew, in its 
fidness, the baptism of suffering. It often 
seemed to me, while in college, that God was 
disciplining him for some great work. And 
now it seems clear that God, meaning to take 
him early, was fitting him to go. It looks 
plain now that he was wanted for work beyond 
the valley. Most certain is it, that when 
death, like lightning out of the brightest sky, 
struck him, he was fit to go. From that close 
of life we must turn. God will make it plain. 
But sum up that life. It will not startle the 
busy world. It was not of it. It had not 
touched it. But did he live in vain ? Is it 
hard to find a living power in such a life ? 
How many may not that life win to God and 
noble living ? How gloriously he died ! The 
great world hardly noticed it ; but the day is 
coming when to that life, and to every life un- 
selfishly imperilled and nobly given up for the 
life of the nation, that nation will do particu- 
lar honor. There were not many such given 
for it, and it will find them out. Of the hun- 
dreds of thousands who went to the grand 



228 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



army of freedom, how few were led by unmixed 
motives ! Desire of position, adventure, fame, 
the bauble of war, had not the very slightest 
place with him. He had seen this nation from 
distant and dark lands, and America was more 
to him than to many born on its soil. He had 
seen its flag honored in foreign seas, and it 
was to him the emblem of the latest civiliza- 
tion and the best. When he came from be- 
nighted lands, he came bounding with love for 
it. And when, in the nation's struggle, the 
lot fell on him, he felt a divine call, and, fully 
realizing what might come, he assumed it. 
There will be found few examples of heroism 
so bright among all the shining names of the 
war. It was a life of no remarkable outer con- 
ditions, — like all beginnings of life ; but in the 
midst of the selfish ambitions the war called 
out, liis simple devotion to country and freedom 
comes to us like a strain of clear music through 
the din of battle. There is enough in that 
life to fill with pride and high content even 
the hearts that were broken. Liberty will yet 
gather her jewels, too, and wear them in her 
crown forever. But more than all this, and 
above all, is the Christian life, giving a full 



TESTIMONIALS. 229 



lustre to heroism. It is a diamond in the dia- 
dem of Liberty, and it shall shine as the stars 
forever and ever. 

" Put it, then, above his head, where he lies 
at rest, at last, in the quietness and beauty of 
Greenwood,* — He lived for God ! He died 
for Liberty." 

The following carefully prepared and ex- 
tended paper is from Mr. Oliver A. Kingsbury, 
an intimate and beloved classmate, now min- 
ister, living at Joliet, 111. : — 

" On the wall of my study hangs the photo- 
graph of that band of brothers who had formed 
a family circle for so great a part of their col- 
lege course, and who, on the morning when 
that picture was taken, were together, all of 
them, for the last time. Among that group of 
faces is one which must impress the beholder 
as being the face of a serious, earnest man. 
In my album is another picture, taken two or 
three years later, of this same face. You see 
in it the evidence of gravity, a more mature 

* In the autumn of 1866 his remains were brought from 
Key West, as were also, at the same time, those of Colonel 
Fellows. Schneider sleeps in Greenwood, — Colonel Fellows 
in his native town, Sandown, N. H. 



2o0 JVMIN 11. ^ciiNKiniMj. 



oxprossiou. Hut it is still tlio siiiuo laoo, seri- 
ous, earnest ; aiul sueh, as I remember him, 
^vas James Sehueider. 

•** I boLrau to know iiim ^luring the latter pari 
of tVeshmau year, luii ii Nvas not till later in 
the eourse that I knew him at all well. We 
boarded together for about two years, 1 iliiuk, 
and, iu the daily iutereourse of the elub, ehar- 
aoter wouhl not tail toeomeout. 

** As I reeall his eharaeter now, I think seri- 
ousness and earnestness were the predominat- 
ing traits. They were evident in all that he 
undertook; evident even in his sports; evident 
in his studies ; evident in his religious develo[>- 
ment. 

*' lie was one ot\\ {>arty oi' us, that, during 
the sunuuer of our junior year, used to s[>end 
many ot" our hall-holidays in boating. I re- 
member, almost as distinetly as if it had been 
yesterday, one al'lernoim so spent. ^Ve had 
rowed down to Savin Hoek, and, when we eame 
to return, t'ound both wind and tide dead 
against ns. The six miles up to the eity were, 
of eourse, no hardship to us; but it reipiired 
hard and steady pulling. 1 was in the bow, 
and Si'hneider was ]ndling ut^xt \o me. 1 ean 



TEBTIMONTALH. 231 



ovoji jjow aJiaoHt koo IiIh broad hliouldorH Bway- 
ijjf^ lackwanJH an'J forwardB, an wo pulled. 
Not oncf; did jjf; \)'..mj'. 'JurJu?'; ;xll ti)f; liour Jj/jd 
nio/f; tli;i.t Jl took u:; to r';;j/;li tljo <Jook. liut 
tliin W5i.H irjoroly IjIk way in cvorytliln^. A 
[iicco of work to bo dou';, — thou tlioro muhi 
ho ijo cdHHiiiUm of cdfort till it wan &/:('/ nniAMuid, 

" or liin carncBtriCHH in IjIh ntudioH, 1 nood 
boar iio record. It waK that wbioli ^^avo biro, 
ill Hpito of Horrio early dlHadvanta^^CH, tbo tiiird 
honor in a claKs rnoro Iban ordinarily able. Ho 
Hludied till bo nndornUjod fbo inattor in band, 
not oontont witb a nioro ijijfaoo knowlodf^o 
Ijiat would ::ound glibly, iio munt undorntand. 
And liiH patient ansiduity Ijas it8 reward. 

''And bin oaniestnoHH, loo, was evident in bis 
reli^nous developnjont. i. reiaernber bow, 
HometimoH in oiir prayer-moo tin ^.r-;, particularly 
in tbo 'entry' rnoetingH, wJioro but a fow gatli- 
erod, be would inakc Kome in^juiry, or exprcKB 
HOifjo viewH tbat looked, deeper tlian Korne of 
us were in tbe babit of going. IJo wanU;d to 
enter into tlio Ijidden tilings, — to understand, 
if possible, all tbat could Ijo underhtood of tbo 
matters of religious tbougbt and feeling which 
we were di sou:'- sing, lie was not content with 



232 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



siii'faco views iii religion, any more than in 
science, lie wanted to enter into the deep 
things of God. He was thoroughly in earnest. 

'^ I only had one opportunity of renewing and 
perfecting my acquaintance with him after our 
graduation. One of the greenest spots in 
memory will be of the day or two spent in his 
society, at the home of his sister, during the 
summer of 18G1. He had then been teaching 
for a year at the Massachusetts Normal School, 
and the result of the year had been to broaden 
and develop him greatly ; so much so, that, 
it was noticeable by all his more intimate 
friends among his classmates. But he was 
still the same earnest man. I remember that, 
as we sat talking in the sunnner twilight, he 
turned our thoughts away from the mere pass- 
ing gossip of the hour, into some channel of 
historical discussion. He wanted to be learn- 
ing, when others would have been content 
w^ith the enjoyment of the passing moment. 

" I saw him but once after those two golden 
days ; and then only upon the street for a mo- 
ment. He Avent to his teaching again ; and 
was winning, one by one, the honors he mer- 
ited. But the call of his country — Msy even 



TKBTIMONIALH. 233 



tliougli a foreign, licathoi land liad been liis 
birthplace — the call of bin country in bcr 
need, lie could not paKH unheede<i. And bore, 
too, his eamestncKS of character hlione fortb. 
lie did not go to win renown, or to gratify 
tinibition. lie did not go }>ecause he loved 
martial glory, or because of any mercenary 
motive, lie went because it seemed to him to 
be duty, —stern, hard duty though it was. 
He wont, sundering many dear and strong ties. 
lie went, declining much easier and safer paths 
which he could have trodden without Ijlamc, 
without any stain of unmanliness upon his 
character. li<i could not disobey the voice of 
duty, as he understood his call. Ho he entered 
tlie arrrjy ol' tbe republic as a private. His 
eanicstness h;d liim to any post that offered 
wliere he could serve his country. 

" The next I heard of Ijim he was the chap- 
lain to one of our colored regiments. The 
next, — he was dead. 

" As 1 think over those of our numljcr whom 
the war carried into untimely graves, I can 
think of none who was more likely than he to 
have been a blessing to the world, lie would 
have gone through life as sturdily as he pulled 



23-i JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



at his oar on that summer afternoon in the 
golden prime of our college days. He would 
have dug his way through difficulties, instead 
of skimming over them, just as he used to dig 
through his lessons. He would have heen se- 
rious and earnest in all his plans and pursuits, 
just as when he made the season of friendly 
intercourse the opportunity of increasing his 
stock of knowledo-e. He would have souaht 
to investigate, though reverently and suhmis- 
sively, the deep things of our holy faith, just 
as he used to seek to penetrate them in our 
little prayer-gatherings. 

" But his work was done, even though to 
human eyes it seemed hut scarcely begun ; 
and ' he was not, for God took him.' It seems 
as if the best and bravest and truest of our 
class were going first. The ' stars ' are gather- 
ing thickly along our list in the catalogue ; 
and, as we turn to some of those starred names, 
we know that our friends are shining in the 
heaven above us, ' like the stars forever and 
ever.' To the life of none of those dear de- 
parted ones does my memory turn so readi- 
ly for an example of patient, steady, conscien- 
tious earnestnessy as to that of 



TESTIMONIALS. 235 



And, what shall wo more say? After all 
this diversified testimony, drawn from so many 
different quarters, there is little need that avc 
should pursue the sul)jcct farther. We might 
attempt some analysis of his character ; hut 
that is unnecessary. We are willing to leave 
it in that heautiful concrete^ which the previous 
pages have so fully exhiljited. We might seek 
to give a kind of summing-up of what he ac- 
complished in liis short life. But it would add 
nothing tO the impression already upon the 
mind of the reader. Of one point we feel 
sure. Here was a young man of rare excel- 
lences of character. Here was a Christian 
young man, who, in his short day of active 
life, was truly a " burning and shining light," 
and he has left behind a light that will contin- 
ue to shine all along his pathway. 

If any young person reads this book, who 
has never yielded the heart to Christ, let us 
ask, if a Christian life does not look noble in 
the light of such an example ? Have you no 
secret yearnings to turn from a life of worldly 
pleasure and indulgence, and emulate such an 
example ? Is it not high and godlike thus to 
live for others, rather than for one's self? " He 



23G JAME3 n. SCHNEIDER. 



Avho will save his life shall lose it ; but ho that 
will lose his life for my sake shall find it.'^ 

And for that fav-oir missionary homo in 
Aintab what shall we say ? Thoiii;h there is 
sadness in that dwelling, we know there is 
also a holy joy. A little light Avas kindled 
there, which has burned very brightly and beau- 
tifully, and will burn on into tlio years to 
come. Besides all the direct influence which 
has gone fortli from that home to enlighten 
the dark Armenian mind around, Jtn indirect 
intluence has also been cast abroad upon the 
world, whose power and extent can never bo 
measured. And we know that that missionary 
father, from the strong love he bears to Christ 
and mankind, from his sense of what was done 
for the world when slavery Avas overthrown, 
can look out from his Eastern home, across the 
great deep, to this, the land of his fathers, 
and with a full heart, can say, in the noble 
words of an English poet : * — 

" An eiul at last ! Tlie echoos of the war — 
The weary war beyoml the western waves — 
Die hi the cTistanee. Fi-eoilom's rising- star 
Beacons above a himilrcil thousand graves ; — 

* JohTi Nieliols. 



TEHTIMONIALS. 2-j7 



" Tijc graves of licroc« who have won the fight, 
Wlio, in tlxj hlonning of the Bluhhorn town, 
JIave rung the niarriage-peal of rniglit und right, 
And Kcalcd the clifi« and ca8t tJie dragon down. 

" i'a^ariH of iirrjiicii thrill acrofis the 8Ca, 

Till JOuroj^e ariswcrs : — 'L(;t the Ktrug^de cea;^e, 
The bloody page i« turned ; the next tnny he 
For way8 of [jleasantnesH and paths of peace ! ' 

" A golden morn, — a dawn of hctter things, — 
The olive-branch, — clasping of handw again, — 
A noble lesson /cad t^> conquering kings, — 
A sky thnt ternpe.its had not scoured in vain." 



[Ill tlio early part of this volume it was 
stated, as will be remembered, that Rev. Thom- 
as 1*. Johnston and wife left this country in 
company with Mr. and Mrs. Hchneider, with the 
expectation of being fellow-laborers at Jiroosa. 
It was, however, ordered otlierwise. But, in 
the course of the volume, mention has several 
times been made of Rev. Mr. Johnston. These 
two families, who went to the missionary field 
together, have had some singular coincidences 
in their subsequent experiences. The son of Mr. 
Johnston, William C. Johnston, was boju the 



238 JAMES H. SCHNEIDER. 



same year with James H. Scliiieidcr, and came 
to this country for his education about the same 
time. They entered Yale College together, in 
1856, and graduated together in 1800. Young 
Johnston then went to Danville, Ky., to study 
theology ; was licensed to preach in the spring 
of 1862 ; became chaplain of the 13th regi- 
ment of Kentucky volunteers; was a very 
useful a,nd popular chaplain, and strongly won 
the hearts of the men of his regiment ; but, 
after a service of two or three months, died at 
Mumfordville, of typhoid pneumonia. Two 
daughters of Rev. Mr. Johnston were also 
educated at Miss Dutton's school, in New Ha- 
ven.] 



EDWARD ¥. SCHNEIDER. 



CHAPTER I. 

EARLY YEARS. 

IN making this brief record of a brief and 
heroic Hfe, we shall pass rapidly over those 
events which have been brought to view in the 
previous narrative. We shall not dwell, at 
any considerable length, upon the outward 
circumstances and conditions of his early 
years, since those who have read the forego- 
ing biography of his elder brother will have 
all these things sufficiently in mind. 

And yet, lest some, through their especial 
associations with the younger brother, should 
wish to peruse the story of his life before 
reading the other, it will be suitable that we 
should take a cursory survey of the scenes 
and events of his childhood and youth. 

Edward M. Schneider, son of Benjamin and 
Eliza (Abbott) Schneider, was born on the 
17th of August, 1846, in the ancient city of 

16 (241) 



242 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



Broosa, Asia Minor. He was the youngest in 
a family of five children ; and at the ago of two 
years and six months, his f^xther was callcdj in 
the prosecution of his missionary work, to re- 
move from Broosa to Aintab, a city in North- 
ern Syria. When this removal took place the 
two daughters were placed at school in Con- 
stantinople, under the care and oversight of 
missionaries resident in that city ; but the 
three boys went with their parents to Aintab. 
Between three and four years after this re- 
moval it was thought best that the four elder 
children should go home to America with their 
mother, — three of them to remain for their 
education, while the youngest of the four, 
William, would return with his mother, at the 
expiration of her visit. Edward, then less 
than six years old, accompanied the family 
from Aintab to Smyrna, the port of embarka- 
tion. Here they were met by his two sisters, 
who had been brought from Constantinoj^le, and 
whom he now saw as if for the first time ; for, 
young as he was when the family was broken 
up at Broosa, he would not be likely to retain 
anything more than a vague recollection of 
scenes and events then transpiring. Only a 



EARLY YEARS. 243 



brief interview could here be allowed him ; 
long enough, however, to make him feel the 
charm and delight of this sisterly companion- 
ship. He was a child, moreover, of a strongly 
emotional nature, of fervid imagination, and 
he found a pecu.liar pleasure in this brief re- 
union of the broken household. But the time 
was short. The hour of separation must soon 
come. With sad and longing eyes, he saw his 
mother, his brothers, and sisters go on board 
the vessel, and pass away out of his sight, on 
their voyage to a far-off land, while he went 
back alone, with his father, to the solitary 
house in Aintab. 

To almost any child, of such an age, this 
would have been a bitter and sore trial. But 
to him, with his intensely affectionate nature, 
it was almost too much to be borne. If the 
reader can recall, from his early experiences, 
the restless and gnawing sensation of thorougli 
home-sickness, and then remember that this 
was a case having many additional aggrava- 
tions, he may conceive, in some measure, what 
this young heart then experienced. In the 
third chapter of the first part of this volume 
will be found an extract from the letter of his 



244 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



fatlicr, grapliically describing the scene and 
the sorrows of his childish heart, occasioned 
by this family sundering. 

For a year and a half he lived at Aintab 
alone with his father, — a father devotedly at- 
tached to his children, but pressed, at that 
time, beyond measure, with his public duties, 
so that it was only in the brief pauses of busi- 
ness that he could give himself to the instruc- 
tion and amusement of the lonely boy. But 
long-continued grief is not natural to child- 
hood. The glowing life within crowds off care 
and trouble, and makes for itself pleasures, 
even in the most unfavorable outward condi- 
tions. A child, too, of such an active imag- 
ination as his, lives in a realm of his own 
creation. He makes himself companions of 
whatever comes to hand. He sets forward, 
and superintends large enterprises in his little 
imitative world. There is nothing more pleas- 
ing than to watch the operations of a little 
child of lively and glowing fancy, moving 
about in this small sphere of his own creation, 
peopling it with persons, and animating it with 
great interests and enterprises, utterly absorbed 
with wliat is going forward, so that there is no 



EARLY YEARS. 245 



sense of the lapse of time, or of the passing 
of outward events. 

In the fall of 1853, when he was now seven 
years of age, his mother returned from Ameri- 
ca, bringing to him his old playmate and broth- 
er, William. Long abstinence had prepared 
him to enjoy, with the keenest relish, this re- 
newal of companionship. Thus time passed 
on, for three years and a half, until, in the 
spring of 185G, his father, in his turn, started 
on a journey to his native land, taking William 
with him, this time to be left in America for 
the purposes of education. Edward was now 
again left alone with his mother, as he had 
before been with his father. But she, from 
her living a more in-door life, and from the 
fad that she had always taken upon herself 
more especially the care and education of the 
children, was much more of a companion to 
him than his father had been, or, from the na- 
ture of his duties, could be. From his moth- 
er, too, Edward had taken his strongly imagi- 
native and enthusiastic nature. She could see 
the movements and impulses of her own young 
heart repeated in him. 

There was much in such a kind of life as this 



246 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



to feed and stimulate the imagination. It was 
not the life of an only child in a family. The 
condition of such an one is peculiar, and there 
is almost always something unique in the char- 
acter thus formed. But the circumstances of 
this case were quite different. There were 
brothers and sisters, only they were not pres- 
ent. His fancy played round them in the far 
distance. His thoughts busied themselves with 
what they were saying and doing in that un- 
known world of America, — the land of his 
fathers, of which he had, all his life long, heard 
so much. 

Thus matters went on for three or four 
montlis, when suddenly a dark and terrible 
cloud gathered about that lonely missionary 
house in Aintab. The mother, his only com- 
panion, sickened and died, and the boy was 
alone. Surely here was a child, to whom, 
through all his early years, had been allotted 
a strange course of experience. He was but 
ten years of age, and now he was in that great 
Asiatic world, with no blood relative within 
four thousand miles of him. 

Dr. Pratt, who, at the time of Mrs. Schnei- 
der's death, was laboring in Aintab, under a 



EARLY YEARS. 247 



heavy burden of care and responsibility, in 
Dr. Schneider's absence, gives the following 
account of the manner of her death, as also 
the manner of her previous life : — 

" There was no long illness and gradual fail- 
ing to prepare us for this. Slie had not seemed 
to be unusually feeble, though we knew that 
she (as all of us) was overtasking her powers. 
But disease came upon her suddenly, and in 
less than live days its work was done. The 
great impression upon the brain — at first in- 
tense headache, and then stupor passing into 
coma — prevented any conversation with her 
during her last illness. But we did not need 
this for our comfort. Her love for Christ and 
for souls, her burning zeal and unwearied per- 
severance, are known to all. I cannot give 
you a history of Mrs. Schneider's missionary 
life, but I hope some one else will do it. Yery 
few missionary ladies, I believe, have been 
able to accomplish as much as only the five or 
six years of her life in Aintab have accom- 
plished. She had an earnest desire for the 
salvation of every one she met, and was faith- 
ful in efforts for their eternal interests to a de- 
gree rarely witnessed. She did not fail to fol- 



248 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



low effort with supplication, for she was a wo- 
man of much prayer ; and many a woman 
whom she met but once, at least for that once 
heard the living gospel of Christ. Old and 
young shared her affections, and heard her 
counsels and instructions with pleasure. Oh 
that the mantle of her zeal and faithfulness 
might fall on us, — that we might have her 
spirit of prayer and her earnest faith 1 Wo 
shall miss all this greatly at our station. She 
had gathered a school of about thirty girls, 
many of whom wept sorely at the funeral of 
their beloved teacher. I have no doubt that 
many souls, at the last, will rise up and call 
her blessed. She has done a great work in 
this place, and great will be her reward. Who 
will now do the work from which she is taken ? 
Who will care for all these ? The two ladies 
had as much as both could do, and now it has 
all come upon one. Oh that we had more 
strength and more helpers! We ask the 
churches to be helpers together with us in their 
prayers ; especially that we may live more holy 
and unblamably before God, and serve the 
Master better and better from day to day." 
The condition of the boy, left thus alone, 



EARLY YEARS. 249 



seemed sad enough ; but there were many near 
at hand who could be deeply touched with all 
the strange incidents of the case, and Avho 
were ready to afford such sympathy and relief 
as were in their power. So soon as the necessary 
arrangements could be made, it was thought 
best that Edward should go to Constantinople, 
and remain in the family of Dr. Dwight, until 
his father's return. But in that slow-moving 
Eastern world, with the great distance of Ain- 
tab from Constantinople, it required some time 
to perfect and carry out this arrangement. 

His father did not return until the fall of 
1858, — two years and a half from the time he 
left Aintab. Meanwhile he had been united 
in marriage to the sister of his former wife, 
and, on reaching Constantinople, Edward was 
introduced to his new mother, possessing qual- 
ities of character and heart not unlike those 
of his own dearly beloved mother. 

He went back with them to the home in 
Aintab, — a home darkened for him by strange, 
sad memories, but now made cheerful again 
by the light of kind looks and winning voices. 
Still, he was the only child in the house. His 
new mother took her place in the household, 



250 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



and devoted herself especially to the business 
of his education and training. This she could 
do more exclusively even than her sister, espe- 
cially during those early years, while she was 
yet obtaining a mastery over the language of 
the country ; for, until this was ejQTected, there 
was a barrier standing in the way of those va- 
rious public labors for which the first !Mrs. S. 
was so remarkable, and for which the present 
Mrs. S. is almost equally so, now that the im- 
pediment has been removed. 

In 1861 besran our dreadful civil war. As 
was said in the opening of this volume, the 
missionaries, from every part of the world, 
looked on with the most intense interest. 
Never were newspapers from America in such 
demand, in these scattered households over 
all the earth, as now. The great distances to 
be travelled made the newspapers old when 
they reached these dwellings ; but tliey were 
fresh and new to them. By the necessities 
of the case, they must always be several weeks 
behind actual events, and this fact gave play 
to the imagination, as to what might have been 
happening between the time when the news- 
paper was issued and the time when it was 



EiRLY YEARS. - 251 



read at these remote points of the world. 
Moreover, throughout all that Eastern world, 
so much nearer to England than to America, 
the intervals between the arrival of the Amer- 
ican mails were filled with the doleful com- 
ments and prophesyings of the English press, 
notoriously unfair and hostile to the loyal 
cause ; but, in the absence of more reliable in- 
formation, this influence was fitted to cast a 
cloud of despondency over the minds of these 
faithful children of America, who, nevertheless, 
prayed on and hoped on, in spite of all delays 
and discouragements. 

In this far-off missionary home at Aintab 
you might have heard just as minute details of 
all that had been passing in this country, — 
names of leading generals and other officers in 
both armies, — names of statesmen and prom- 
inent actors in every department of this pub- 
lic activity — as though you were conversing 
in one of the loyal homes of America. And 
so it was in other missionary dwellings in 
various parts of the world. 

But it may be doubted whether, in any 
other remote household, anywhere in the 
world, you could have found a lad of fourteen 



252 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



years, upon whose tliouglit and imagination 
the war took such a mighty hold as upon this 
solitary boy at Aintab. It absorbed every 
thought and emotion of his soul. When the 
time drew near for the arrival of another mail 
from America, his feeling of expectation was so 
intense, his curiosity to learn what had tran- 
spired was so absorbing, that he was almost 
beside himself with longing excitement. And 
when the papers came, they were not left until 
every shred of news was read, and not only 
read, but re-read and thoroughly mastered, so 
that not many American youth here at home 
could explain every feature of the situation as 
he could. And yet to him this was a foreign 
land. He had never set foot upon its shores. 
He knew of its geography and shape only by 
studying the maps, and gathering information 
from books, and from the conversations of liis 
father and mother. 

Nor was it simply the idea of great armies 
and bloody battles that stirred his imagination. 
He had studied the causes of the war, and saw 
the hideous character of those claims which 
southern agitators and revolutionists were pa- 
rading before the civilized world. The insti- 



EARLY YEARS. 25B 



tutioii of slavery stood out before him in all its 
guilt and enormity, and he seemed perfectly 
willing to expose himself to any personal dan- 
ger, or to incur any hazard or loss, if he might 
help crush this accursed system, and rid the 
land of his fathers of this foul blot upon her 
otherwise fair fame. 

No doubt there was much that was unnatu- 
ral and ill-regulated in the fervors of this 
fierce excitement. His imagination, naturally 
strong and active, had been unduly developed 
in the solitude of his life, — in his hours of 
lonely musing. Yet, after all, there was some- 
thing grand and heroic in the position of this 
boy in his far-off home among the hills of 
Asia. It is of such material that real heroes 
are made. He would, even then, at so early 
an age, have " counted all things but loss," if 
he might personally have been permitted to 
share in the humblest duties, to bear the low- 
liest part, in the work of subduing and extir- 
pating the great rebellion. 

So matters went on from month to month. 
With all the rest of the loyal children of Amer- 
ica, he felt the agou}^ of the defeat at the first 
great battle of Bull Run. He shared in all the 



254 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



hopes and high anticipations when McClclan 
came forward to take tlie command of the 
army of the Potomac. He endured the long 
suspense, the sickening delay and inactivity 
of the following fall and winter and spring, 
though he endured them like a young lion 
shut up in a cage, and beating ineffectually 
against the bars of his prison. 

We are glad, at this point, to introduce a 
communication from Miss M. A. Proctor, a na- 
tive of Townsend, Mass., and a graduate of the 
Normal School at Framingham, but now for 
several years a most highly valued missionary 
teacher at Aintab. She gives us a clear and 
distinct impression of what this boy was, and 
presents us with a vivid picture of his manner 
of life before coming to this country. 

*' I take pleasure in complying with the re- 
quest of Dr. Schneider, that I would communi- 
cate to you some incidents in regard to his son 
Edward, which may serve to illustrate his boyish 
life in this country. 

" When I became a member of his father's 
family, in 1859, Eddie was thirteen years of age, 
— a regular hoy^ bright, vigorous, and active, 
warm-hearted and impulsive, with much of a 



EARLY YEARS. 255 



boy's restlessness and love of adventure. One 
could but wonder how so much hoy-life was to 
find vent and exercise in this out-of-the-way 
place, with no school to attend, and not an 
English-speaking child within a hundred miles 
for a playmate. Still he usually seemed very 
happy, and made the house lively with his sing- 
ing and whistling. He had daily lessons, re- 
citing mostly to his mother, but sometimes to 
others of the missionary circle. He thought 
it pretty dull, as most young people would, to 
study so alone; but he obtained a very good 
knowledge of Geography, History, and the 
Natural Sciences: knowledge which is spe- 
cially needed, and constantly called into use in 
this land. Arithmetic and Grammar he dis- 
liked. Of course, there were many interrup- 
tions in such a course of home study, and so 
he labored under the double disadvantage of 
being alone, and of being somewhat irregular 
in his lessons. But the desire to take a good 
stand when he should enter school in America 
was a powerful incentive to spur him on. 

'' Besides his lessons, he had a good deal of 
work to attend to every day, as the care of his 



256 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



chamber, bringing in wood, and, when he be- 
came a little older, the care of the horses. 

He had no ' lazy bones,' as the phrase is, 
and took pleasure in cleaning up the house, or 
in helping his mother about the cooking. His 
parents did not like to have him much with 
the servant, or with the native boys near by ; 
for, however well-disposed many of them might 
be, yet his very position among them was one 
of temptation. An American child in his 
Frank dress naturally rules among his play- 
mates, while among older people he is petted 
and encouraged to say and do smart things. 

" Still a boy must have companions, and Ed- 
die often joined a company of school-boys in a 
walk or at a game of ball. Skating there was 
none, often not snow enough for coasting more 
than half-a-dozen days in the course of a win- 
ter, although some years we have snow for 
weeks. But he amused himself with rigging 
up ships, making flags, pressing and arrang- 
ing flowers, contriving little gifts for his friends, 
etc. The two missionary families were in the 
habit of meeting once a week for dinner and a 
social evening ; and chiefly for Eddie's sake, 
birthdays, Independence, Christmas and holi- 



EARLY YEARS. 257 



days generally were duly observed. In tlie 
summer we often went out to tlie fruit-or- 
chards, and spent a day under the trees, taking 
our meals in picnic style. These days he en- 
joyed most thoroughly. 

'^ Eddie did not become a Christian until he 
went to America. But, carefully as he had 
been trained, he could but have manv serious 
thoughts. Many times he came to my room, 
and with tears asked me to pray with him, and 
tell him what he must do to obtain a new 
heart. He would seem to be almost ready to 
give himself up wholly to Christ, and some- 
times would say he had done so. Then, as he 
felt the power of temptation still strong upon 
him, he would say, ' I never can be a Christian ; 
this will of mine wont bend ; ' and for a time he 
would become careless and indifferent. The 
last year of his stay with us in Aintab he was 
more uniform in his serious feelings and de- 
sires, and we felt that he would at length be 
led by the Spirit. 

" Edward's patriotism, more than anything 
else, has made him known and admired, and I 
wish I could give you a vivid idea of how 
brightly that flame was burning in his heaxt 



258 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



whilo still ill this couutiy, and fi-om the very 
commciicciucnt of the war. 

" Although born and hronght up in Turkey, 
and having never seen American soil, there 
was no truer patriot in all New England than 
our Eddie. He devoured every item of news 
about the war, waiting as impatiently for our 
w^eekly post as any politician for his daily 
paper, and he was never tired of talking over 
the battles, etc. It was amusing to sec him 
sit so silently, and sometimes uneasily, while 
the company were discussing miscellaneous 
topics, or something pertaining to our mis- 
sionary work, and to notice how eagerly he 
would snatch the first opportunity to say, 
' Well, what of the war^ Do you suppose the 
army of the Potomac has taken Richmond by 
this time ? ' McClcllan was his great hero for a 
long time, and he stood up for him after many 
of his friends had abandoned him ; but after a 
while, he, too, was obliged to let his hero drop. 

" He enjoyed committing to memory and 
reciting patriotic poems, and among these 
' Bingen on the Rhine ' seemed to be his 
favorite. He adapted or invented a kind of 
chant for this, and would chant it by the hour 



EARLY YEARS. 259 



as he sat in liis room. In his lasf letters to 
friends before joining the army he quoted 
from it, — 

" ' Tell my sister not to weep/ etc. 

" He often said that if he was in America he 
would join the army, and was impatient to go 
home that he might fight for his country. 
To many this may seem only romance and 
boyish enthusiasm; but, if it was, there was 
added to it a devotedness of purpose, and a 
spirit of self-sacrifice and determination to 
overcome all obstacles, which enabled him not 
merely to dream of doing, but bravely to carry 
out his purpose even unto death. He knew, 
too, more of the realities of army life than any 
one brought up in New England could do. 
He had travelled over these rough mule-paths 
many a day under a burning sun, and also in 
cold and rain ; he had had experience of tent- 
life, and of the traveller's road-fare, and of 
sleeping out under the open sky. Boy-like ho 
chose, on those long journeys, to shoulder gun 
and rough it with the strongest of the company. 
At one time, when he had got a little in ad- 
vance of his friends, a party of armed men 
rode threateningly up to him and demanded 



260 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



who he was. He quietly told them, and they, 
after satisfying themselves that he was not the 
person they were in pursuit of, rode oif and 
left him jogging along. 

" When he found that his friends were not 
willing that he should enter the army while so 
young, he put himself in a way to be 
ready to when his time should come. He 
found that mathematics were very important 
to a naval officer or a tactician; and so, not- 
withstanding his dislike of figures, wo heard of 
him, scarcely a year after he entered school in 
America, at Andover, studying arithmetic, 
algebra, and geometry all at once. Of his 
various other training processes at Andover 
3'Ou will doubtless hear from his friejids. 

" Much as Eddie had longed to go to America, 
it was a hard trial for his affectionate heart 
when the time came for him to bid all his 
friends good-by, and leave his father's house. 
He accompanied us to Aleppo, where the 
Annual Meeting was to hold its session, and 
went on from there with the friends from 
Beiriit. All those last days with us in Aleppo 
his heart was very full. In the crowded state 
of the house, he slept on a lounge in the same 



EIRLY YEARS. 261 



room with his parents, and hearing his mother 
get up in the niglit he called her to liim, — 
^ Mamma, come and let me hug you,' — and 
so he clung to me as if he could not say the 
last good-by." 

In the foregoing communication, reference is 
made to the beautiful lines by Mrs. Caroline E. 
Norton, and both as showing how his thoughts 
ran, in that distant home, and because they 
had a meaning for him which he could not 
then know, and were in some sense prophetic 
of his own fate, we give two or three stanzas, 
distinctly to recall them to the reader : — 

" A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers ; 

There was lack of woman's nursing, tiiere was dearth of 

woman's tears ; 
But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed 

away. 
And bent with pitying glances, to hear what he might say. 
The dying soldier faltered as he took that comrade's hand. 
And he said, ' I never more shall see my own, my native 

land, — 
Take a message and a token to some distant friends of mine ; 
For I was born at Bingen — at Bingen on the Rhine. 

" ' Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and 

crowd around. 
To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground. 



262 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



That we fought the battle bravely ; and when the day was 

done 
Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun ; 
And midst the dead and dying were some grown old in wars, 
The death-wounds on their gallant breasts the last of many 

scars ; 
But some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline. 
And one had come from Bingen — fair Bingen on the Rhine ! * 

"His voice grew faint and hoarse — his grasp was childish 

weak; 
His eyes put on a dying look — he sighed, and ceased to 

speak ; 
His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled : 
The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead ! 
And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked 

down 
On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corpses strewn ; 
Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to 

shine, 
As it shone on distant Bingen — fair Bin;ien on the Khinc." 



CHAPTER II. 

REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. SCHOOL DAYS. 

THE time had at length come when Edward, 
the yomigest of the flock, being now 
nearly sixteen years of age, ^was to go to 
America to receive the advantages of a more 
perfect education. His early culture had been 
more broken and neglected than of the other 
cliildren. The course of events, detailed in 
the previous chapter, is of itself sufficient to 
show how irregular must have been his mental 
training. His life had been one of sudden and 
strange transitions, leaving little continuous 
quiet for the acquisition of knowledge or for 
intellectual discipline. 

In the summer of 1862 it was arranged^ that 
he, in company with some returning mission- 
aries, should go, for the first time, to the land 
of his fathers. This, under any circumstances, 
would have been an event to stir his imagina- 

(2G3) 



264 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



tion, and fill his youthful mind with the liveliest 
anticipations. It was the land of his kindred. 
It was here that his sisters and brothers were, 
and the prospect of a reunion with them was 
most delightful to him. But, above all things, 
his coming just at that time was made doubly 
joyful to him because of his intense interest 
in the fortunes of the war. There was, how- 
ever, a dark side to the picture, as we have 
seen from the foregoing letter of Miss Proctor. 
There was, even then, a kind of forecasting 
what might happen. 

He reached this country in one of the darkest 
periods of the conflict,— just after the seven- 
days' battle on the Peninsula, when everything 
seemed to be going to confusion. The battle 
of Antietam, however, which soon followed, 
changed the aspect of the scene and revived 
the hopes of the loyal people of the land. 
Nothing would have suited him better than at 
once to have joined the army of freedom. 
But he was not yet of military age, and his 
friends would not consent to his enlisting. 
After brief visits to his relatives, he went, in 
the fall of 1862, to Bridgewater, where his 
brother James was employed as a teacher 



REMOVAI. TO THIS COUNTRY. 265 



in the Normal School ; and wa? there placed 
at school tinder the general direction and care 
of his brother. 

Now let it be understood that, in briefly 
delhieating the early years of this boy, we have 
by no means intended to hold him np as a 
model child. Far enough from this. His 
qualities were quite unlike those of his elder 
brother James, and such as excite far greater 
fear and anxiety in parents as to what the 
result may be. His was one of those natures 
that is likely to turn strongly either toward 
good or evil, and one often waits tremblingly 
to see which direction will be taken. Many a 
child, with the same essential qualities, has be- 
come an early wreck. The victims of intem- 
perance are often these children of high and 
generous natures, noble impulses, who are 
early led astray ; and, when once they are on 
the downward path, go from bad to vforse with 
a strange rapidity. But here was a child of 
many prayers. Around him had been thrown 
the restraining influences of religion from his 
early years. And, as we have already seen, 
before he came to this country, he had deeply 
felt his need of the renewing grace of God, and 



266 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



had soiiglit, as he thought, earnestly that he 
might be owned and accepted as a child. But 
those feelings had been evanescent. In the 
judgment of charity, there was no good reason 
to suppose, at the time of his coming to this 
country, that he knew what true and genuine 
religion was. 

After reaching Bridgewater, he occasioned 
his brother no little anxiety because of a cer- 
tain waywardness, — a facility in yielding to 
evil companionships. James felt a heavy bur- 
den of responsibility in the case, and labored 
and prayed that this young brother might 
be guided to the "■ Lamb of God that taketli 
away the sin of the world." And his prayers 
and labors were not in vain. In the spring 
and early summer of 1803 there was a pre- 
vailing religious interest in Bridgewater. 
Edward's heart was deeply moved, and ho 
came forward, and as he believed, and as 
others about him believed, made a full conse- 
cration of himself to Christ. 

June 12tli he writes to his sister Eliza : — 

" Dear Lizzie, — I thought, as I felt so happy, 
I would make you happy. . . I hope I have 



REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. . 267 



found Christ. Oh, a blessed thought that is ! 
Yesterday, as I was walking out alone, I was 
looking at the clouds and saw something beau- 
tiful. I thought I saw a beautiful golden 
palace, shining and glistening in the sun ; and 
Jesus was beckoning to me and pointing to it. 
All this may have been fancy. Whether 
imagination or not, it looked beautiful. I 
feel liapny. The world lias a brighter look to 
me now than it ever had before, and it is my 
duty to go to the war. I trust I am ready to 
to die, and am ready to go as soon as it is best 
for me." 

This letter was detained until the next day, 
and he adds : — 

" Saturday Morning. 

" This morning I went to the prayer-meet- 
ing, and I got up and told them that I wanted 
to be a Ciu'istian, and asked them to pray 
for me. Oh, I felt so happy ! I enjoyed the 
meeting so much ! It was very hard at first 
to take this step ; but I made up my mind to do 
it, and have done it. Lizzie dear, wont you 
pray for me ? I need the prayers of Christians 
very much." 

Under date of June 20th, he writes to his 



268 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



father : — "I suppose that it will gladden your 
heart, if I should tell you that I am a Chris- 
tian. Yes, since I wrote you last, I rejoice in 
the hope that I am a Christian. Everything has 
a brighter look. I am now ready to die at any 
moment, I hope, and if it is my duty to join 
the army, you cannot now have any objection, 
can you ? I don't say that it is my duty to go 
now, but the time is coming, and it is not very 
far oif, I think.'' 

On the same day James writes to his father : 
— "I have time to write you only a few lines, 
but that will be better than nothing. Eddie 
has told you the best piece of news, — that he 
rejoices in the new birth. I believe he is sin- 
cere. Ilis whole life and conduct are altered. 
I can hardly believe it, but it comes in di- 
rect answer to prayer. You have prayed, and 
mother prayed, and others have prayed. T 
presented his case as a petitioner at one of our 
morning prayer-meetings, and earnest prayers 
indeed were offered, and I believe God an- 
swered them." 

We must now go back a little in our narra- 
tive, in order that certain things, which will 
follow, may be clearly understood. It has 



RE3I0VAL TO THIS COUNTIiY. 269 



been explained in the early part of this volume, 
that the present Mrs. Schneider, who went out 
to Ail] tab in 1858, returned to this country to 
make a brief visit, especially on account of 
her aged mother, landing in Boston in the 
month of May, 1863. Wlion references, there- 
fore, are made to her, for some months to come, 
it will be understood that she was in this coun- 
try. Her mother was in Carbondale, Pa., in 
the family of a grandson, Rev. Henry Abbott, 
an Episcopal clergyman. So soon as Edward 
hears of his mother's arrival, he writes to her, 
under date of May 14th, 1863 : — " My dearest 
mother, oh, how glad I am to hear you arc in 
Boston, only twenty-seven miles from me ! I 
can hardly realize it. Can it be true that you 
are in America ? Next week on Friday my 
vacation comes, and I can sec you. James 
X)roposes that I should spend it with you in 
Saxonville. It is only a week long; would 
you be willing to defer your visit to Carbondale 
a few days on my account ? I hope you will, — 
1 almost know you will. Next week, on Thurs- 
day, our school has an examination. I dread 
it a little, but will try to do my best, and go 
through it bravely like a soldier." 



270 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



Mrs. Sclincidcr, after a brief delay in New 
England, went to Carbondale, Pa., to her moth- 
er, and there she remained closely until her 
mother's death, which occurred about the first 
of August. 

June 27th Edward writes from Bridgewa- 
ter to his sister Eliza : — 

'* Dear Sister Lizzie, — Just one hour ago 
I received your letter, and I came to the sub- 
lime conclusion to answer it right off. You arc 
a jewel of a darling of a sister to write to me 
so soon, and I thank you very much for your 
letter. . . You wish to know how I am 
getting along. Well, this past week has not 
been a very pleasant one. My lessons went 
wrong . . and then I have had tlie thought 
that I am not ' a soldier of the Cross,' and 
have had fears that my love to Jesus was grow- 
ing cold ; so you see it has been a dismal week 
to me. What can I do ? I pray to God to help 
me; but my prayers are not earnest enough. 
And then again, James has spoken to me about 
taking a part in meetings ; but what can I say ? 
I don't know what to say, and I don't think I 
can pray, yet, before other people. I could 



REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. . 271 

not say anything. What shall I do ? Pleaso, 
when you write me next, tell me." 

In July he sends the following letter to his 
mother : — 

" Bridgewater, July II, 1863. 

" Dear Aunt Susie, — Pfease to excuse my 
tardiness in answering your note, but I have 
been very busy. I have very little time to 
myself. Since I heard from you, you have 
had a terrible battle fought near you, — I mean 
that of Gettysburg. How I wish I could have 
been there ! I mean by that, I wish I could 
have been there to fight. 

" What are father's views about my going to 
the war ? Would he be willing to have me" go 
now that his native State has been invaded ? 
. . I want so much to fight for my country. 
I can't stay much longer. I 7nust go. I feel 
it my duty to go. I don't want to go for the 
fun of being a soldier, or for bounty money, 
but to fight. I have got to die sometime, and 
if I go and get killed, and go to heaven, and 
be with my mother and sister, I would go to- 
day. . . I want to enlist in six weeks ; may 
I not ? Oh, give me the privilege of suffering 



272 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



for my country ! I want to enlist in some New 

York regiment, cavalry or infantry. I hope I 

will not be disappointed. 

" In two weeks James's school will be through, 

and we both are coming down to Englewood, 

in two weeks and a half. . . Wlien are you 

coming to Englewood ? Wont you be there 

when James and I are there ? I want to see 

you very much. I am not at all satisfied with 

the glimpse I got of you at Saxonville. 

" Since I wrote you last I have at times 

doubted whether I am a true Christian. I 

find it very hard to do right always. James 

says that I ought to take part in meetings. 

How can I ? I don't know what to say. 

This troubles me a good deal. Will you pray 

for me that I may be guided aright ? . . . 

Please write me soon, if possible before I go 

to Englewood. 

" Yours affectionately, 

" Ned." 

On the 12th of August James writes to his 
mother, still at Carbondale : — '' We boys want 
to see you, as much as you want to see us. 
We will be in Saxonville sometime on Tues- 
day next (a week from to-day). I will 



removt^l to this country. 273 



write to Mrs. Northrop and ask her if it is 
convenient to her to have us come. Eddie has 
changed wonderfully. He is a very good boy." 
His desire to enter the army never left him. 
Whatever other subject might be omitted in his 
letters, this was sure to have a place some- 
where. He writes to his sister Eliza from Fra- 
mingham, August 27th, — 

"Dear Lizzie, — I left Englewood in high 
hopes, but everything has changed in regard to 
my going to the war ; and next week I shall 
be established at school hi Andover. It has 
been and is a great disappointment to me that 
I can't go into the army ; but it is all for the best 
that I don't go, I suppose, though it is hard to 
be disappointed. I shall go to Andover, and 
try to do my duty, and study hard." 

Accordingly, in the early fall of 1863, he 
went from the school in Bridgewater to Ando- 
ver, where he entered Phillips Academy. His 
one year in this country, with the mental disci- 
pline it had afforded, with the advantages de- 
rived from the faithful care and influence of 
his brother, and, more especially, under the 

81 



274 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



convicting and regenerating influences of the 
Holy Spirit, had made him another person, — 
had given him more enlarged and sober ideas 
of life. But, in the midst of all these changes, 
his intense desire to enter the army and fight 
for his country had not in the least abated, 
but rather increased. 

To show still farther the strength of this 
feeling in him, — how powerfully this desire to 
be a soldier had taken hold upon his thoughts, 

— we will copy, almost at random, a few ex- 
tracts from his letters written to various persons 
during his school-days. 

From Bridgewater, June 9th, 1863, he writes : 

— " What do you think of the war ? Are you 
any more willing that I should be a soldier-boy 
now than you were last July? I have not 
given np the idea, and I hope I shall not. . . 
You may perhaps laugh at me, if I tell you that 
I feel it my duty to go. Yes, I feel it more 
and more." 

March 20th he writes from the same place : 

— "I try to bear all without complaining ; for 
a soldier must bear without complaining. I 
don't moan to say I am one yet, but when I am 
one, I shall have to bear pain, fatigue and hun- 



REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. 275 



ger : so, you see, I am getting ready to be a sol- 
dier. I receive hardly any sympathy from my 
friends in my military plans. Oh ! I want to 
go now, and fight for our glorious starry ban- 
ner ! " 

April 24th again he writes : — "I was feel- 
ing badly all last week, because I saw no pros- 
pect of my being a soldier, or obtaining a mili- 
tary education ; but after a week's suffering, I 
have determined to wait patiently till my time 
comes. Meanwhile, I will try to get a good 
practical English education." 

In the following August his hopes of being 
permitted to enlist were raised very high, and 
he thought, for a time, that he should certainly 
go into the army. August 29th he writes 
from Saxonville, where he is spending his va- 
cation : — " What can I do ? I did all in my 
power to go, and tried every means that I had ; 
but it was of no use ; it was decreed from on 
high that I should not go, and what good will 
it do for me to murmur ? I must bear my 
disappointment without murmuring. I try 
not to complain. . . It is decided that I 
shall go to Andover to school. I go with the 
determination to study hard, — yes, hard as I 



27G EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



can, and try to do my duty both to God and 



man." 



The following passage is of different char- 
acter. He had received a present from his 
brother James, then at Ship Island, and in 
writing to a dear friend he says : — ''I have not 
been grateful to James for his kindness to me. 
He has done a great deal for me, and, now. that 
he is away, I begin more and more to realize 
it. His influence over me has done me a vast 
deal of good. I hope you wont think I am 
trying to make myself out to be so very good 
now. No ; far from it. I mean that, had it 
not been for James, I would not be where I 



am now." 



The following are extracts from his letters 
to his sister Eliza, written at Andover during 
the fall term of 1863 : — 

" Sunday Evening. 

'' I have just been to a prayer-meeting 
among the students. Oh, it was a blessed 
season ! There were over sixty present, and 
Jesus was there with iis. If you could have 
heard the prayers it would have done your 
heart good. When I went there I thought I 
would not take part in the meeting, but after 



REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. . 277 



I had been there a little while, I felt it my 
duty to speak, and I did speak, and how happy 
I felt afterwards ! I feel happy now, for I feel 
as if I had done a little for Jesus. I have 
now come out for Jesus, and I must and will 
work for him." 

Again he writes : — " Yesterday evening, I 
went to the class prayer-meeting. Many got 
up and spoke, and among them two that had 
been converted during the past week. There 
is a revival going on in our school. Many arc 
inquiring ' What shall I do to be saved ? ' 
The prayer-meetings are very interesting. I 
enjoy them very much." 

November 4th, 1863, he writes liis sister : — 

" Dear Lizzie, — I have a little spare time 
this afternoon, and I have sat down, pen in. 
hand, to have a little chat with you. 

" I expected to see you at James' ordination 
at Bridgewater, and was very much disap- 
pointed not to see you there. . . As I write, 
the sun is sinking gradually in the west. I 

wonder what you and A are doing just now 

while I am writing. I wonder what Willie is 
doing : perchance sweating down in the engine- 



278 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



room. I wonder also what James is doing : 
perhaps teaching his soldiers how to read, or 
telling his men of the love of Jesus to those 
who will serve him. Yes, I wonder if you arc 
thinking of me as I am thinking of you. 

" To-day I have had to read a composition 
(subject, 'Malta'), and have had to speak a 
piece ; and next Thursday I will have to de- 
liver something like an essay before the ' So- 
ciety of Inquiry,' of which I am a member. 
Just think of my giving an essay ? Well, it 
must be so, and I can't get out of it. . . . 
" So, good-night. 

" Brother Edward." 

In December, 18G3, he makes another ear- 
nest appeal to his father for liberty to go the 
war. He writes from Englewood, where he is 
spending his vacation : — 

"December 1, 1863. 

" Dear Father, — It is vacation now, and 

I am spending it with Lizzie and A . I 

received your kind letter a week before school 
closed, and it did me a great deal of good. I 
should have written you before the term closed ; 
but you can hardly realize how busy I am from 



REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. 279 



morning to night, and from one end of the 
week to the other. The time passes very 
rapidly. I have been at Andover one term of 
tivelve weeks, and expect to be there two terms 
more of fifteen weeks, which will bring me 
near, if not to, August of next year. 

" It was a great disappointment to me not to 
go to the army, but I clearly saw God had 
designed that I should not go at present. I 
can't as yet see the reason why I was not per- 
mitted by Providence to be a soldier; but I 
know that it is all for the best. . . I shall 
wait till I am eighteen patiently and diligently. 
I will study, and then, if it is my duty to go, I 
shall shoulder my musket and march to the 
music of the Union, with a determined pur- 
pose. . . I shall try next term to get the 
highest mark in the English department of our 
school. This term the highest mark given in 
our department was 7.73 (8 is perfect). I got 
7.55, which you see is only eighteen hundredths 
less than the best scholar. . . 

" Yours, 

" Edward." 

When we remember how intense and long 



280 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



continued in him had been this interest in the 
war, — how constantly this feeling makes itself 
manifest under all circumstances and on all 
occasions, — we cannot but regard this devotion 
to scholarship at the same time, this ambition 
to excel, as indicative of somewhat remarkable 
powers of concentration and self-control. And, 
especially, when we take into view the fact 
that hitherto he has not been trained to con- 
tinuous and systematic habits of study, his 
present devotion to books is, to say the least, 
highly commendable. During the May term, 
which had just closed, he had also been siibject 
to the excitement arising from his brother's 
enlistment and departure to join the army. 
In the letter to his father, from which we have 
just quoted, he says : — " You perhaps know 
that James, instead of being adjutant of his 
regiment, is the chaplain. He was oi'dained 
at Bridgewater five weeks ago to-day. Tlie 
regiment came on to New York last Wednes- 
day, and sailed for New Orleans . 
the next day (it being Thanksgiving). James's 
regiment is to be in Gen. Banks' department, 
and may possibly be ordered off to join our 
army in Texas." 



REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. 281 



In the midst of his chronic war excitement, 
with these disturbing causes superadded, it 
certainly argues well for the character of the 
boy that he should thus earnestly and quietly 
pursue his studies and attain so high a grade 
of scholarship. Indeed, it is very evident as 
we look back over the course of events, that he 
was acting under liigher and more command- 
ing motives than those which ruled him when 
he first landed on our shores. The brief sen- 
tence already quoted from James's letter, 
namely, " Edward has changed wonder- 
fully ; he is a very good boy now," means a 
great deal. In the short space of one year, he 
seems to have passed from the impulsive, half- 
unreasoning state of a boy, and reached the 
collected force and discretion of a man. 

At the close of the vacation he went back 
to Andover and entered with vigor upon the 
winter term. But he never gave up the idea 
of being a soldier. The following letter, writ- 
ten February 1st, 1864, will show with what 
strength this idea had taken hold of him, and 
how constantly it followed him through all the 
changes of his life in this country : — 



282 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



" Dear Lizzie, — To-day the President called 
for 5OO.5OOO more men. You will have seen it 
long before this reaches you. What shall I do ? 

^' The boys here in the school are awaking 
to a sense of their duty to their countr3^ I 
think many of my school-mates will go, and 
among them are my best friends and compan- 
ions. . . Don't you think it is my duty to go 
now, after this last call for troops ? I am sure, 
if ever it was my duty to go, it is now, for now 
is the time when our country needs the men. 

"Do you think that I must wait till I hear 
from James before I enlist, or not ? The fact 
is, Lizzie, it will be nearly two months before 
I can get an answer from him. Do you think 
it would be justifiable in me to enlist before I 
heard from him ? I am inclined to think that 
it would, for, in his last letter, he said that he 
was glad father had given his consent to my 
going to the war. I do so want to go with my 
friends ! Why, it will make me crazy to have 
my school-mates, class-mates, and best friends 
here go, and I have to stay. Oh, no, I can't do 
so ! I must go. I am not excited. I write calmly. 
. . . Don't you think I had better go ? 
How can you or any one hold me back, when 



REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. 283 



I ought to go by all means ? It is too bad to 
trouble you so much about my affairs, but if it 

were not for your and A 's sake, I would 

not hesitate one moment in going. 

" Now I feel I must go, and it will be un- 
just to keep me from going, I shall write to 
James to-night and ask his consent ; but most 
likely he will not get it for three weeks. I 
say again, I must go and serve my country. 
I don't think I will have to serve long, for the 
war will not last more than a year longer. 
Please write soon and tell me what you think 
I had better do ; for on the 10th of March 
they will draft, and I want to enlist before 
that. Write soon. 

" Your affectionate brother. 

" Edward." 

• His prophecy, at last, draws near the fulfil- 
ment. The reader will remember what he 
wrote to his father the previous summer : " I 
don't say that it is my duty to go now, but 
the time is coming, and it is not very far off, I 
think." 

Mrs. Schneider, after a brief visit to her 
native land, — after being providentially per- 



284 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



niitted to minister to the last days of her aged 
and widowed mother, — set out on her return 
to Aintab in the early part of 1864. She 
went back by way of England ; and Dr. 
Schneider, who was desired to spend a short 
time in England in labors in behalf of the 
Turkish Aid Society, met her there. From 
her he learned more fully all that had been 
passing in regard to the dear boys in America, 
and it was at that time that he gave his 
consent that Edward should enter the army. 
There is, perhaps, no better place than this to 
introduce the following touching passage from 
the letter of Dr. S. to the writer, giving an 
account of this matter. After going rapidly 
over the items of early personal history, which 
we have already recorded, he says : — 

" It will thus be seen that he was early 
thrown on his own resources, — being very 
much alone and without tlie superintending 
care of his parents. This circumstance may 
have had a marked influence in developing 
the decided spirit of a true soldier, which he 
afterwards exhibited. . . . From the com- 
mencement of the war in America, even before 
he had reached its shores, he felt a very deep 



REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. 285 



interest in its progress. He was well posted 
in its history, and could give the particulars 
of many important events and phases of the 
rebellion. All that he read about it only in- 
creased his desire to aid in crushing it. After 
reaching America this desire constantly in- 
creased. He asked permission to enter the 
army. But as he was not yet eighteen years 
of age, and, when he first arrived in America, 
was not yet hopefully pious, I did not feel 
that it was his duty to enlist. I became very 
anxious on this point, as his desire to partici- 
pate in the war was constantly and rapidly 
growing. My earnest prayer was, for a long 
time, that if tli^e Lord would only give him a 
new heart, I could .then consent to his going 
to the war, or to any part of the globe to which 
He might call him. This was the burden of 
my prayer for months. I could not think 
of his going to the war without a good hope ; 
and yet his desire to enlist became irresistibly 
strong. When this prayer was finally an- 
swered in his hopeful conversion, I could no 
longer refuse my consent. Accordingly, when, 
some months after he had expressed a hope as 
a Christian, he again earnestly pleaded to bo 



286 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



permitted to enlist, I could no longer re- 
fuse assent. I well remember the circum- 
stances surrounding me, and the feelings with 
which I consented. In Dublin (being at that 
time on a visit to England), in the tliird story 
of our kind host, I sat down, and gaA^c my 
written permission to his entering the army ; 
but it was with the decided presentiment that 
the result would be fatal to the dear boy. But 
as I had promised the Lord that, if he would 
only give him a renewed heart, I would con- 
sent to his being employed in any service or 
sent to any part of the habitable globe, I could 
not do otherwise, whatever might be the issue. 
I felt sure the Judge of all the earth would do 
right, whether the lad should be spared to 
return to us after the war had ceased, as so 
many have done, or be sacrificed to the well- 
being of his country. . . . 

" When he finally became a soldier he 
seemed very happy and contented, feeling, as I 
believe, that he was in the path of duty. And 
though he knew the dangers to which he was 
exposed, as he considered himself in the path of 
duty, he seemed to be perfectly satisfied with 
his position as a soldier." 



REMOVAL TO THIS COUNTRY. 287 



March 5tli, 18G4, Chaplain Schneider writes 
to his father from Key West, as follows : — "I 
gave my consent finally to Eddie's enlisting. 
You have given your consent. . . As ho 
has heen very often disappointed, and has 
borne the disappointment quite well, and is a 
good boy, and has just received the strength- 
ening influences of a revival at Andover, and 
as this is probably the last opportunity he will 
have to enlist, I cheerfully gave my consent to 
Ms going. . . He has very much improved 
in writing. He has done well at Andover." 



CIIArTER III. 

ENTERS THE ARMY. EARLY EXPERIENCES. 

NO sooner had the consent of his friends 
been obtained, than Edward sprang for- 
ward like an imprisoned bird let loose from a 
cage.* All along he liad evidently believed 
the time was soon coming, and now indeed it 
had come. He liad been preparing for this for 
months. During the latter part of his con- 
nection with Phillips Academy, he had slept 
upon the bare floor, that he might learn " to 
endure hardness as a good soldier." Ho 

* About the time of his enlistment lie called upon a family 
in Boston, where he was well acquainted, and seemed run- 
ning over with joy tiiat the consent of his friends had been 
gained, so that he could go into the arm}'. Alluding to this 
subject, and using the common designation of the boys at 
riiillips Academy for their respected principal, he said : 
" If Mr. Taylor makes any objection, I shall tell him that I 
am now going into the service of a greater 'Uncle Sam' 
than he is." 

(2SS) 



ENTEUS Till'] AllMY. ^ . 289 



iiiiiijitaiiicd that sclf-coutrol, ol' wliicli wc liavo 
.si)okcn ill tlio previous chapter, to Llio last of 
his stay in the Acadciny. Kager as ho was to 
go, yet, while lie reinained, lie applied hiiiisell' 
diligently to books, and gained the high appro- 
bation of his teachers. 

February Dth, 18(M, James, then with his 
regiment at Ship Jsland, writes bis faihor : — 
" I hear very gratifying and cheering accounts 
of Eddie, lie is devehjping well.'*^ 

lie enlisted in the early part of March. One 
of the regiments then forming in Massachu- 
setts was the -OTth, under the command of 
Colonel William i<\ JJartlett, of JJoston. Onn- 
})any K, of this nigiment, to which young 
Schneider attached himself, was a company ol' 
shar])shooters, to bo armed with the Spencer 
rille. The head-quarters of the regiment, lie- 
foro being mustered into service, were at Wor- 
cester. This was among the last regular regi- 
ments enrolled in Massachusetts, the highest 
number being the G2d, and tbat numbered as 
the GOtli ))eing only a regiment of one hundred 
days' men. The soldiers composing the 57th 
were not drawn from anyone particular locality, 
as in the case of many of the earlier regiments, 

1!) 



290 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



but they came together indiscriminately from 
all parts of the State. It was forming in 
the fall of 1863 and in the winter and early 
spring of 1864, in bad weather, and its ac- 
commodations at Worcester were not of the- 
best. After enlisting, and before going per- 
manently into camp, he paid a last visit to 
Englewood. His brother, Rev. William B. 
Dwight, in a letter written at a later date, de- 
scribes this visit, and the impression made on 
his own mind by Eddie's conversation and 
manner : — 

" He was unmistakably a Christian. I can 
testify to the great change which he had un- 
dergone since he indulged a hope in Christ. 
And in taking his country's uniform, and put- 
ting his life in peril, I believe he was actuated 
by the noblest principle. On previous occa- 
sions he may have looked at the romance of the 
thing, but he evidently took no such view of it 
when he was here on his last visit. I was then 
very much struck by his sedateness and manli- 
ness. He said very little about the army, but 
conversed mostly about such topics of love 
and friendship as would naturally engross the 
mind of one who felt the premonition that he 



ENTERS THE ARMY. 291 



should never return. He was in tlie best of 
spirits, however, and felt that he was doing his 
duty ; and we all think that he was. He laid 
all his plans with much though tfulness, and 
made every preparation to enable him to per- 
form well the arduous duties of the field. 
Among other things, I will mention, that, just 
before he left, we ascertained that, during the 
whole of his last term at Andover, he had 
slept every night on nothing softer than the 
floor, to enable him to meet the hardships of 
the camp. He bid us an affectionate good-by, 
and went into camp at Worcester. Here, as 
the company was not yet mustered in, he had 
to put up for weeks with very poor accommo- 
dations and very wretched fare." 

This passage sets the young soldier very 
clearly before us, and we see that the frivolity 
of the boy has gone, and the soberness and 
dignity of young manhood have taken its place. 

March 23d, 1864, Edward writes from camp 

Wool, at Worcester, to A : — " How kind it 

was in you to write to me ! I thank you ever so 
much. I received it, together with Eliza's last 
letter, yesterday, — they having been here one 
whole day without my knowledge. . . It is 



292 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



a blustering, cold day, to-day ; in fact it is very 
cold. I must thank you again and again for 
tlie nice warm stockings you knit for me. 1 
don't know how I would have got along with- 
out that pair, for we have not been furnished 
with stockings by tlic government. There are 
nearly thirty of our company in camp, and 
some are coming in daily. We are quartered 
with another company, but as soon as there is 
a sufficient number (I can't say how many) we 
will have quarters by ourselves. That will be 
so much better. Our company will 1)e the 
crack company of the regiment, — that is, 
they are trying to have it so. Every cftbrt is 
being made to have all Americans, and no 
Irishmen. The part of the company that is in 
camp is composed of nice young men, though 
some are older. There are several that I like 
very much. There seems to exist a sort of 
brotherhood among the sharpshooters. 
Of the barracks we are quartered in now, I can 
say but little. There are large cracks, through 
which the cold air comes in at a great rate. 
We suffer a great deal from the cold and from 
various other causes. But I would not have 
you think, for a moment, I am sorry that I en- 



ENTERS THE ARMY. 293 



listed. I am glad tliat I enlisted, and have 
not for a moment been sorry." 

Again, March 30th, he writes to the same : 
— " It is a rough day to-day. It snows, it 
hails, and the wind sweeps across our camp 
like fury. AVe have two stoves in our barrack, 
but one of them smokes when the wind blows, 
and makes us very uncomfortable. But this is 
not all. Our barrack was built of green lum- 
ber, and, when it dried, it shrunk up, causing 
large cracks all over the building, through 
which the cold comes in at a great rate. I 
could go on and describe everything around 
me, by which you would infer that we are not 
very comfortably quartered ; but it will not do 
any good, and, above all, I donH wish to com- 
plain. We shall have better quarters when 
our company is mustered in and organized ; 
but when that will be, I cannot now say. Our 
company looks more hopeful since I wrote 
last. By the end of this week there will be 
fifty or sixty in camp. The fact is, more than 
that number have enlisted, but they are slow 
in coming into camp." 

April 10th, he writes: — "Last week was 
one of the busiest, as well as the happiest since 



294 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



I arrived in camp. To my great joy, wc were 
mustered into the national service as the 
tenth company (Sharpshooters) 57th Massa- 
chusetts Regiment of Infantry. Our company 
numbers ninety strong, and there arc more for 
it in camp. . . . It is snowing again, which 
makes the camp look desolate ; but I don't care 
much, — we are happy inside. The weather 
is not so cold as it has been. During those 
cold days we suffered a little, I guess. But 
never mind, I feel rough and ready for any 
emergency. . . It is a great disappointment 
to me not to see you again ; but it can't be 
helped though ; there is a very slight chance 
of my getting on." 

The regiment was mustered into the service 
of the United States April 6th, 1864, and on 
the 18th of April it left the State to be moved 
forward to the seat of war. It was not full at 
the time it was ordered to move. It numbered 
at that time about nine hundred and fifty men. 
But serious work was in prospect, and all 
available men must be brought forward to the 
front. Young Schneider had been longing, for 
years, for an opportunity to serve his country, 
and when the occasion came, it came in car- 



ENTERS THE ARMY. 295 



nest. There was the widest diversity during 
the progress of the war, in the fortunes of regi- 
ments, in respect to actual fighting. Some 
regiments would go forward to the front, and 
remain in a drilling and seasoning process for 
months without a touch of real fighting. 
Others were taken fresh from the recruiting 
camp, and plunged at once into some of the 
most terrible battles of the war. Many will 
remember the circumstances connected with 
the 35th Massachusetts Regiment, Col. Edward 
A. Wild commanding, in 1862. This regi- 
ment left Massachusetts August 22d of that 
year, and arrived upon the ground just in sea- 
son to be at once moved forward with the 
troops concentrating for the battle of Antie- 
tam, which was fought on the 17th of Septem- 
ber. In this great battle, the 35th, utterly 
unused to such scenes, was exposed to a most 
terrific fire from the enemy, and was very bad- 
ly cut up. 

It fared somewhat so with young Schneider's 
regiment, the 57th. Gen. Grant was getting 
ready for that great fighting and flanking 
movement, by which he was to make his way 
to Richmond, and men were pushed forward 



296 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



with all liastc, and by forced marches, from 
every direction. 

Rev. Mr. Dwight, in the letter from which 
we have already quoted, describes tlie toils 
which the regiment went through as soon as 
ever it arrived from Massachusetts. " They 
went to Annapolis, and were immediately 
marched to Washington, on two very hot days, 
a distance of sixty miles, which for the first 
march was terrible." From Washington, the 
regiment passed out of sight, with the rest of 
the gathering host, and men, everywhere, un- 
derstood that something was to. be done, 
though they knew not exactly what. -Eor a 
few days there was anxious suspense through- 
out the land, and then came the news of the 
battle of the " Wilderness." At first, men 
doubted whether it was to be called a victory 
or a defeat. People had grown used to those 
great battles just across the Potomac, which 
were first heralded as victories, and after- 
wards turned out to be something quite differ- 
ent ; and from long experience they had 
learned not now to indulge in a hasty and in- 
considerate joy. It was known that the losses 
on our side had been very great, and it would 



ENTERS THE ARMY. 297 



not have been a matter of special surprise, if 
tlie loyal army, as in previous campaigns, had 
found it best — all for strategic purposes, of 
course — to have fallen back a little, and taken 
up a position somewhat nearer Washington. 
A few days pass away, — days of sore anxiety, — 
and then we find terrific fighting going on at 
Spotsylvania Court House. Men study their 
maps, and discover that this at least is not a 
retreat, though the enemy may try to give out 
that they are seeking to draw our army into a 
position where it may be overwhelmed. But, 
on the day after this last-named battle, comes 
back that ringing word from Gen. Grant, 
'-^ I 'propose to fight it out on this line, if it takes 
all summer.'' And then the country began to 
breathe freer ; for they found that a real man 
was at the head, and not the man who was 
called general-in-chief when the se^'Cn days' 
battles on the Peninsula were fought. 

But here was this 57th Kegiment, only 
seventeen days after they broke camp at 
Worcester, in one of the most terrible and 
desperately-fought battles of the war, and 
destined to share in others in quick succession 
for a month and more to come. The boy, only 



298 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



seventeen years old, who, but a little more than 
two months ago, was reciting his lessons in 
Phillips Academy, is now passing through a 
campaign, which, for toil and fighting, might 
well appal the veteran, after years of disci})line 
and experience in the field. Says Rev. AV. B. 
D wight, speaking of this campaign which 
began at the Wilderness and ended with 
Petersburg: — '^ Words cannot describe its suf- 
fering. I have seen many of the soldiers who 
have been through it, and they look as if they 
had been steeped in the rays of tlie mid-day 
sun, and then scathed by lightning. They 
commenced with the terrible battle of the 
Wilderness, and marched and countermarched^ 
and fought incessantly for jive weeks, when 
Burnside's corps (in which was the 57th Massa- 
chusetts) had its severest fight on the banks 
of the North Anna. After that was over, out 
of nine hundred and fifty, who composed the 
regiment five weeks before, only one hundred 
were left capable of bearing arms. Eddie 
himself was wounded in the leg and taken 
to the hospital. We received a letter from 
him, in the hospital, mentioning his sufferings, 
but not complaining of them ; speaking of 



ENTERS THE ARMY. . 299 



his wound as slight, and manifesting the best 
of spirits. He had an opportunity to go to 
hospital at Wasliiiigton and recruit ; l)ut 
he insisted on rejoining the regiment, and we 
received a letter from him at Hanover town. 
He had been in two more fights. He had then 
been two whole days without any food, and 
had been fighting most of the time ; but he 
said they were expecting food hourly. He 
still wrote in good spirits, — no complaining 
whatever." 

Perhaps we can in no way give a more 
graphic idea of the immense proportions and 
severe toils and dangers of this campaign, than 
by copying a brief record of it, day by day, as 
it stands in the " Chronological History of tlie 
Great Rebellion," prepared for " Johnson's 
New Illustrated Atlas" : — 

May 5th. — " First day of the great battle 
of the Wilderness. Gen. Grant began to move 
toward forming a lino faced westward, and 
advancing toward Lee ; who, to begin with, at- 
tacked Grant on the march, aiming to crush 
his right centre, or to get between his right 
and the Rapidan. This attack was vigorously 
repulsed. Leo then (at 3 p. m.) tried to 



300 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



break in between our centre nncler Warren 
and left under Hancock, and nearly succeeded ; 
but was at last repulsed by an advance along 
our whole line ; and at nightfall the fight was 
indecisive, and loss heavy on both sides ; but. 
Grant's force was in far better position for 
further fighting than in the morning." 

May 6th. — '^ Second day of the battle of 
the Wilderness. Both leaders meant to at- 
tack ; but Lee was about fifteen minutes 
ahead, and attacked with tremendous fury all 
day, beginning before 5 a. m., trying our 
right, left, and centre, one after another, and 
most frequently gaining a temporary advan- 
tage, but only to be repulsed by our troops. 
The final attack of the day upon our right 
came near being a very damaging affair ; but 
our troops were rallied by Gen. John Sedg- 
wick, with imsparing personal exertion and 
exposure, and the army saved. In the battles 
of this and the preceding day, each side lost, 
probably fifteen thousand all told. . . The 
result was, however, that Gen. Grant held his 
ground, and at the end of his second day's 
fight pursued his plan of advancing on Eich- 



ENTERS THE ARMY. 301 



moiid by a move on Spotsylvania Court 
House." 

May 8tli. — " Severe fighting before Spot- 
sylvania Court House ; our troops carry a 
rebel position, but only after heavy loss. The 
day resulted in our taking position within two 
miles of the Court House, Lee's army holding 
a line a mile in our front, very strongly placed 
and intrenclied. Hancock and Burnside to- 
day encamp twenty miles away from the Wil- 
derness battle-field." 

May 10th. — "First day's battle at Spotsyl- 
vania Court House. After heavy cannonade, 
— artillery being used for the first time since 
Grant advanced, — there was skirmishing until 
noon, then an obstinate attack by our troops 
without success ; skirmishing again, and at the 
end of the day another attack by our whole 
line, in which Upton's brigade stormed the rebel 
works, and took one thousand prisoners and 
several guns, but had to retreat, bringing them 
oif. Day's work indecisive, and loss tremen- 
dous, — probably ten thousand on each side." 

May 12th. — " Grant's second corps, under 
Hancock, charges the left of the rebel works 
in a fog, at dawn, with the bayonet, and hardly 



302 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



firing a gun ; surprises at breakfast and cap- 
tures within an hour a whole division, — men, 
officers. Brig. Gen. G. H. Stewart, and Maj. 
General E. Johnson commanding, with thirty 
guns. Hancock instantly charged and took 
the rebel second line also. This splendid dash 
giving us a key-point to the rebel entrench- 
ments, the rest of the day was used in furious 
rebel assaults (no less than five in all) to 
regain their lost ground, and furious Union 
assaults to gain more, but with no further de- 
cisive advantage on either side. Loss, on each 
side, about ten thousand in all." 

May 14th. — " Grant had prepared during 
last night for another flank attack on the rebel 
right ; but the mud and rain last night had 
made the ground this m^orning totally impass- 
able. Both sides intrenching." 

May 15th. — " The first day of rest for the 
Army of the Potomac for fifteen days." 

May 18th. — "Fierce and obstinate attacks 
on Lee's lines before Spotsylvania Court 
House ; but they were found totally impreg- 
nable, and our troops withdrawn after heavy 
loss." 

May 21st. — "Grant's whole army leaves 



ENTERS THE ARMY. 303 



Spotsylvania Court Housq, continuing its flank- 
ing movement towards Hanover Court House, 
Lee having already gone. Some skirmishing 
along our rear." 

May 23d. — "Grant's army roaches and 
crosses the North Anna. Hancock's and War- 
ren's corps are violently resisted, but drive the 
rebels and make good their positions across the 
river. Sheridan with his cavalry leaves White 
House to rejoin Grant." 

May 24th. — " Grant completes the crossing 
of the North Anna." 

May 27th. — " Grant's advance reaches Hano- 
ver town, on the Pamunkey, about fifteen miles 
north-east from Richmond, and new supply- 
base made at White House. Lee evacuates 
his line on the South Anna, and moves round 
again to face Grant." 

June 1st. — "Battle at Cold Harbor, first 
day. Severe fighting all day, and our forces 
hold the position at Cold Harbor in spite of the 
furious and obstinate assaults of the enemy. 
We also carry and take part of the rebel rifle- 
pits ; yet the advantages are not decisive." 

June 2d. — " Skirmishing all day between 
Grant and Lee, and a rebel charge on the 5th 



804 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



and 9th corps, in the afternoon, while changing 
position, which was repulsed with loss, after 
heavy fighting." 

June 3d. — "Third day's fighting at Cold 
Harbor, being the principal battle. Grant at- 
tacked Lee's lines in force, carried the outer 
works- in two places ; but the troops were 
driven back, though they intrenched and held 
their ground within fifty yards of the enemy. 
A furious rebel attack, at 8 p. M.,was repulsed 
with heavy loss." 

June 4th. — "Grant's forces intrenching. 
At 9 p. M. violent attacic by rebels on Han- 
cock's, Wright's, and Smith's corps ; repulsed, 
however, with rebel loss of over three hundred 
killed, and one thousand wounded and prison- 
ers." 

June 5th. — " Second rebel night attack ; di- 
rected against Hancock's troops. Rebels re- 
treat, after an hour's severe fighting, with 
serious loss." 

June 12th. — " This afternoon the Army of 
the Potomac begins to move to cross the James. 
In the night, the 6tli and 9th corps cross the 
Chickahominy to Charles City Court House ; 
the 2d and 5th moving towards Wilcox's 



ENTERS THE ARMY. 305 



wharf, and the 18th corps gomg to White 
House to take transports." 

June 15th. — "The crossmg of the James 
by Grant's army completed ; the whole force 
having been drawn out from within fifty yards 
of the enemy's intrenchments. and moved fifty- 
five miles by the flank, carried across the 
Chickahominy and James, — the latter two 
thousand feet wide and eighty-four feet deep, — 
with a whole loss by skirmishing and straggling 
of not over four hundred." 

This is the kind of life which the missionary 
boy from Aintab — the young student from 
Phillips Academy — lived for five successive 
weeks, at the very opening of his military ca- 
reer. Surely, his longing to do something to 
help his country and crush the rebellion was 
speedily and abundantly gratified. There are 
not many military campaigns on record more 
exhausting than this ; yet the boy goes through, 
in spite of his wound, and is at length with the 
army before Petersburg. The 57th Regiment, 
for services there performed, was entitled to 
inscribe on its banners. Wilderness, Sijotsyl- 
vania, North Anna, and Cold Harbor, which 
were no slight affairs, but tremendous and 

20 



306 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



furious battles, lasting, cacli, two or three 
days. 

It happened, as a somewhat noticeable fact, 
that the news of James's death at Key West 
reached Englewood May 5th, the day on which 
the great battle of the Wilderness began. 
Precisely when this news reached Edward, we 
have not the means of knowing. But it was 
not probably niany days after, that he was 
made acquainted with the sad intelligence, and 
he marched and fought all the way to Peters- 
burg with this thought of his brother's death 
and the grief of the scattered members of his 
household lying like a heavy burden upon his 
heart. The sadness of this death, in its rela- 
tions to dear A , he had pondered all over 

in those busy days of toil and fighting, and he 
had solemnly adopted her as a sister beloved, 
who should be watched over with fraternal 
care. He would help her, so far as was in his 
power, to bear the burden which had fallen so 
heavily upon her. 

A few brief extracts from his letters during 
this memorable campaign, written in snatches 
of time, and mostly in pencil, to his sister 

Eliza and dear A , will appropriately close 

this chapter. 



ENTERS THE ARMY. 307 



On the lltli of May, dating his letter, " On 
the Koad to R-ichmond," but being near Spots- 
sylvania Court House, he says: — "I have a 
moment's time to write. I am, as yet, well, — 
safe and sound. Yesterday afternoon the shot 
and shell flew around us quite lively. Our 
company is detached from the regiment, sup- 
porting the 7th Maine Battery ; and yesterday, 
when the rebs came out of the woods and 
charged on our lines, we had to work spry, 
helping the battery boys. 

" I was hardly in any danger in the nine-mile 
Wilderness battle. . . I have not been hurt 
yet in this battle, but may be before we get 
through. Our plan now is to march and fight 
and drive the rebels. At the battle of the 
Wilderness, our regiment lost three hundred 
in killed, wounded, and missing. We lost 
three from our company." 

In another letter, written May 15th, he goes 
back, and gives a rapid account of their long 
marches before the battle of the Wilderness, 
and of the part taken in that battle by his reg- 
iment. On the first day, which was the most 
destructive day for his regiment, his company 
was detached for other service. But on the 



308 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



second day, after Colonel Bartlctt was himself 
wounded, the company rejoined the regiment. 
When this letter was written, on the 15th, ho 
does not appear to have heard of James's death. 
But in another letter, soon after, but whose 
date we cannot quite make out, he says : — 
" Lizzie ! what sad^ sad news from James ! 
It was like a thunder-holt to me. I feel as if 
I had lost a father in liim. Now I must de- 
pend upon myself, and act out an indepen- 
dent course. Would that I could sit down 
by you, and mingle my tears with yours ! I 

love A the more, and shall try to be more 

of a protector. James gave his sword and 
. belt and sash and revolver to me [this was 
after James took the office of chaplain], you 
remember ; and if his things are sent home, 
will you keep them for me ? I wish to keep 
them as his last present to me." 
June 2d lie writes to dear A : 

" I have not written you for a month to-day, 
neitlier have I had a letter from you since 
then. This month, which has just passed, has 
been one of the most eventful ones of my life, 
having passed through a great deal : hard, long 



ENTERS THE ARMY. 309 



marches, — been almost starved at times. I 
have passed through four battles or engage- 
ments ; but in the last one I had the fortune or 
misfortune to receive a rebel compliment in 
shape of a spent musket-ball in the left foot, 
causing thereby a shght wound, but enough to 
disable me for a week or more ; at the end of 
which time I reported back to my regiment for 
duty. I had a chance to go to Washington to 
a hospital ; that is, I could have got there by 
sneaking. But no ; I wanted to be with our 
rei2:iment when we take Richmond. I am not 
well yet, but will be very soon. After I was 
wounded (at the battle of North Anna River), 
I lay in the woods one day and night be- 
fore I could be taken care of. The agents of 
the U. S. Christian Commission have been 
very kind to me. They gave me a dinner, 
consisting of two pieces of ham, some apple- 
sauce, and two soft crackers. This was a din- 
ner better than I have had for months. (We 
have lived on hard-tack, salt pork, fresh beef, 
coffee, and sugar, entirely since we left Wor- 
cester.) I assure you it tasted good. 

" I have been feeling sad for the last few 
days, for I have lost a brother who was to mo 



310 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



more than a brother, and deeply do I sympa- 
thize with you in your bereavement. . . I 
love you as a sister, and will do all in my 

power for you. A ! do write me often, 

if you can, for I need letters more than ever, 
for we are having hard times ; but I don't 
want to complain, but endure cheerfully to the 
end. I am weak and weary, and have not re- 
covered entirely from the wound. It is grow- 
ing dark, and I must cook my supper. What 
shall I have ? I guess I will cook a little 
hard-tack. Oh that I could have a good meal! 
For the last two days we have had no rations 
given out to us, and had to starve ; but we 
draw rations this noon. 

" Your loving soldier-brother, 

" Edward." 

On the 4th of June he writes from " Battle- 
field near Hanover town, or ten miles from 
Richmond " : — 

" My dear Lizzie, — I have just this minute 
received your letters of the 27th and 29tli ; and 
oh how glad I am to get them ! They do me 
more good than anything else. I am well, but 



ENTERS THE ARMY. 311 



weak and faint. We have had hardly any- 
thing to eat since yesterday morning. I 
hourly expect to get something to eat. I 
wrote you last from near the North Anna 
River, after the battle. I am glad to be able 
to say that my wound is a great deal better. 
I was in the hospital about eight days, and got 
well enough to join my regiment on June 1st. 
That night or morning we were attacked by 
the rebs ; but we were in the reserve, and not 
in much danger. The 2d (June 2d) we left 
our breastworks, and the rebels followed close 
on our heels, and attacked us, but were re- 
pulsed after some little sharp fighting. Here 
we had two of our company wounded. Yes- 
terday, the 3d, we were under fire twice, at the 
time the rebels tried to turn our right fla^ik ; 
but they were repulsed twice. . . The 57th 
stood like a rock." 

June 12th he writes from Athens Mill, 
Ya.: — 

" My PRECIOUS Sister A , — Yesterday 

evening I was lying in my place, in the breast- 
works thinking of you, when the sergeant said, 
' Fall in, Co. K, for your mail.' On going up 



312 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



to liim, the first letter I saw was one from you 
to nie, — the one .you wrote from L. I also 
received the letter you wrote from E., ac- 
companied with Lizzie's letter ; and what a 
feast it was for me ! They do me more good 
than anything else. When I received the sad 
news of James's death, I was at Mine Run, at 
the head-quarters of Maj. Gen. Crittenden, our 
division general having been detailed as his 
guard for a few days. I believe I received the 
news Friday. On Friday we drew two days' 
rations, which were consumed by Saturday 
night, and that evening we left Mine E-un, 
(without rations), marched all night, marched 
all day Monday, and stood guard Monday 
night. All this I had to do with hardly any- 
thing to eat except three or four ears of corn 
and some coffee and a little piece of meat. 
But this was not the hardest. The death of 
James almost disheartened me. Tuesday we 
had the battle of North Anna River ; I got 
tired of being on the general's guard, and 
joined my company and got wounded that 
day. My wound is almost well now ; but I 
am entirely worn out, for we have been march- 
ing, fighting, and digging trenches for four 



ENTERS THE ARMY. 313 



weeks, and, at times, having to do this without 
anything to eat. If I could have three weeks' 
rest at Englewood, I think I could recruit 
enough to go in again for a month. But this 
cannot be, of course, unless I was wounded 
pretty badly ; then I could get a thirty-days' 
furlough. What I need is rest. Oh, what mean- 
ing that word conveys to me ! A , I 

want you to lean on me ! If there is anything 
you wish that I can do, only say so, and I will try 
to fulfil your desire. I wish I could talk instead 
of write to you, for writing seems a poor sub- 
stitute for talking. ... I have been two 
months in the service now, and have seen 
pretty hard service, if I do have to say it. 
When I have been so weary and weak, I have 
longed to join James, and, perhaps, I shall 
soon. ... I don't know as you are aware 
that I sent William D wight four hundred dol- 
lars of my bounty money, and he is to put it 
at interest for me. I have decided, in case of 
my death, that Lizzie shall have two hundred 
dollars, and you two hundred. This, to me, 
is the best disposition that can be made of the 
money, in case of my death. I want to know 
how this suits you. Will you let me know ? 



314 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



I wrote you from Rappahannock Station, and 
I wrote Lizzie three letters from Spotsylvania, 
which have been lost, I fear. I was in three 
days of the fight at Spotsylvania Court House ; 
was in the battle of North Anna River, and 
three engagements up here. God has been 
very gracious to me, and spared my life. I 
cannot be thankful enough to him for his 
goodness. To-day is Sunday. Oh how I would 

like to go to church with you ! A ! I 

long to see yovi, but I fear I can't for a long time 
to come, unless something' turns up. 

" Yours in haste, affectionately, 

" Edward.'* 



CHAPTER IV. 

KILLED IN BATTLE. 

HAVING- copied tliis brief record of fighting 
ill May and June, it is fit that we should 
take from tlie same source two entries more : — 

June 16th. — " Determined attack on main 
rebel works at Petersburg, by Hancock, Smith, 
and Burnside, but with little success, and our 
loss some two thousand. Meanwhile, Butler 
sends out Terry with a force, which tears np 
two miles of railroad and cuts off Petersburg 
from Richmond for a day." 

June 17th. — " Heavy fighting before Peters- 
burg, — Burnside's troops assaulting and carry- 
ing an important part of the rebel main works 
about a mile and a half from the city, into 
which he threw a few shells. After several 
vain attacks during the day, the rebels recap- 
ture the works, liowever, after 9 p. m. Whole 
Union loss about twelve hundred." 



316 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



It was in this last-named assault by Burn- 
side's troops, June ITtli, — the anniversary of 
the battle of Bunker Hill, — that young Schnei- 
der fell, mortally wounded. In making this 
assault, his courage and enthusiasm stimulated 
him to take a position which exposed him prom- 
inently to the fire of the enemy, and which 
was probably indiscreet on his part. But the 
loss was heavy on this day, as on the previous 
day, and, indeed, as it had been on the success- 
ive days of fighting, all the way from the be- 
ginning of the battle of the Wilderness ; and 
this exposure may or may not have been the 
occasion of his death. In this chapter we 
shall make use mainly of the writings of others, 
who were near at hand, or who were familiar 
with all the particulars at the time. 

The chaplain of the 57th Regiment was Rev. 
A. H. Dashiell, Jr., and, immediately after 
young Schneider's deaih, he despatched a 
short note to Mrs. Dwight, his sister at Engle- 
wood, apprising her of the sad fact ; and as soon 
as he could secure the necessary leisure, he 
wrote her the following letter, giving the cir- 
cumstances : — 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 317 



"Hospital of the 1st Division, 9th ) 
Army Corps, near PETERSBURa. ) 

" My dear Mrs. Dwight, — I promised, when 
I wrote briefly announcing Edward's death, to 
give you the particula'rs, so soon as I could 
find time for the purpose. Now, after burying 
those who were mortally wounded (thirty- 
eight), and sending off to Washington some six 
hundred more, I take the time to perform the 
sacred duty. 

" It seems, from what I can learn, that Ed- 
ward, when the order to charge the enemy's 
works was given, pushed on in advance of his 
company, determined to be the first to mount 
them, and when within a few paces of them, 
and ten feet ahead of his company, he fell, 
shot through the abdomen. As soon as he 
was brought to the hospital, he sent for me, 
and I did what I could for his comfort ; though 
he and hundreds of others were obliged to lie 
on the ground as thick as autumnal leaves. 
The next day, when I could learn more accu- 
rately the nature of his wound, I discovered 
that it was mortal, and, when pressed by him 
to know what I thought, my tears revealed to 
him the truth. I thought of that sister who 



818 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



with tears had commended him to me, and 
that noble father far away, and I could not re- 
strain them. Soon Dr. White, surgeon of the 
57tli Massachusetts, and Mr. Westwood came 
up and confirmed my opinion ; and Tie expressed 
his hearty acquiescence in the will of God. 
The captain of his company came up ; and 
when asked by Mr. W. what message the 
captain should bear back to his companions, 
he said, ' Tell them to stand by the dear old 
flag,' with a touching tenderness in his tone. 
"When he was told that he had but a few hours 
to live, he looked up to me with a smile, and 
repeated the verse of a song which is sung by 
the soldiers : — 

" Soon with angels I'll be marching, 
With bright laurels on my brow ; 
I have for my country fallen, 
"Who will care for sister now 1 " 

" In the original lines it is mother. You un- 
derstand the change. I put him in charge of 
my servant, as other duties called me away. 
In the evening he sent for me ; indeed, poor 
fellow, I could not go near him Avithout his 
calling to me. I was all he had to cling to of 
home and friends, except those he made at the 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 319' 



time, I sat down by him in a Sibley tent, 
whither he had been removed, and he gave me 
these messages to you. First, he desired me 
to assure his father and you and all his friends 
that he died happy in the Lord, in the fulness 
of hope ; to which I can bear testimony. His 
face shone like an angel's. God had been dis- 
ciplining him and preparing him for glory, as 
I have remarked for weeks past, as we have 
passed through these terrible scenes of battle 
and suffering. He said that he had done his 
duty to his country, and felt happy in that, too. 

He then adverted to you and to A ; told 

me his relations to her, — the tenderness of 
his fraternal attachment to her ; and desired me 
to request you to divide equally between your- 
selves his bounty-money. He wished twenty 
dollars of the money at the mission-rooms to 
be appropriated to the American Board, and 
ten dollars to the Christian Commission, to 
whose agents and delegates he felt great obli- 
gations for their kindness to him in the hospi- 
tal. All the rest, with his back pay and the 
small sum he had with him, he directed should 
be possessed by you alone. He said that his 
brother William was well to do, and did not 



820 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



need it, and desired me to send him this mes- 
sage : ^ Stand by the dear old flag, and cling 
to the cross of Christ.' My duties forced me 
away, and, leaving him in the care of young 
How, one of his comrades, slightly wounded, 
I saw him only for a moment during the night, 
though it was a late hour when I laid down in 
my blanket. Before dawn I was up, getting 
the wounded into wagons and ambulances, to 
be removed to City Point, and he sent me a 
message to come to him. I was so engaged 
that I could not go at the moment. I said, 
' Presently.' In a few moments I went, and he 
was gone. I stood and wcjDt. After breakfast 
I took my burying party and prepared the 
graves for many besides him ; but I could not 
bury him in a trench with the rest, — so I dug 
his grave beside a tree, about a rod from the 
public road, and nailed a board, on which Mr. 
Westwood inscribed, ' Ed. M., son of Rev. Dr. 
Schneider, of Aintab, Turkey, of Co. K., 57th 
Mass. Reg't Inf.' ; and, having enclosed the 
grave, I left him to await the great summons 
which is to awaken us all. 

" He greatly impressed all who came near 
him, with the sweetness of his spirit, and the 



KILLED IN BATTLE. . 321 



calm bravery with which he met death. I for- 
got to say that, when he requested me to pub- 
lish a notice of his death, he wished me to 
understand that it was not to give notoriety to 
his name, but to acquaint his numerous friends 

of his death 

" Send this to your father, and believe me, 
in the tender bonds of which Edward is the 
link, 

" Your brother in Christ, 

"A. II. Dashiell, Jr., 

" Chaplain 57th Ma,ss." 

In a subsequent letter to Mrs. D wight, Rev. 
Mr. Dashiell says : — " He was not alone when 
he died. Young How, a member of his com- 
pany, slightly wounded, was with him. He 
sent for me when I was particularly engaged, 
about five minutes before his death, and could 
not leave ; indeed, I did not suppose his end 
was so near. He saw me pass, and asked 
young How to call mc. His sufferings were 
extreme. He did not talk very much ; but I 
shall never forget the expression of those long- 
ing, loving eyes, when he would greet my 
coming. He seemed to love me with his 

21 



322 EDWAKD M. SCHNEIDER. 



whole heart because he had no one nearer to 
cling to." 

Mr. Charles B. Ncwcomb, of Boston, em- 
ployed at that time in the service of the Chris- 
tian Commission, writes to Mrs. D wight respect- 
ing her brother : — ''I first became acquainted 
with your brother at Mount Carmel Church, 
where we halted one night on the march to the 
North Anna. There he was on guard, and his 
pleasant manner and the conscientiousness in 
the performance of his duty drew my attention ; 
and being both Massachusetts boys, and nearly 
of an age, we early became acquainted. At 
the North Anna River, he was in camp for a 
few days, and I learned to know him better ; 
and the more I knew him, the more I loved 
him. Shortly after, we moved on, and he was 
sent back with the wounded to the White 
House ; but one day he passed me on the road, 
trudging along in the heat and the dust, smil- 
ing and happy, on his way to rejoin his regi- 
ment. The next time we met was at our hos- 
pital camp, in the woods before Petersburg ; 
and there, on the morning of the 18th of June, 
I found Edward lying under a tree, torn and 
bleeding from his cruel wound, but just as 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 323 

calm and cliecrful as when I saw him in health 
and strength but a few days before. Several 
times during the day I was with him ; and when 
he told me that he was going home, and that 
he was not afraid to die, he seemed so strong 
and cheerful, I could not believe him so near 
his end. He asked me to be with him when 
he died, and told me, as I talked with him, 
that he did not know how he might feel when 
he approached the dark valley, but his Saviour 
seemed near to him, and he felt no fear. How 
strange it seemed, the next morning, when 
they told us that he died at three o'clock ! 
[It was the same hour in the morning that 
James had passed away at Key West.] But 
we know the Good Shepherd led him safely 
through the ' dark valley ; ' and now he rests 
sweetly in the shadow of the woods, and his 
spirit rejoices with the Redeemer above. Often, 
as I passed his grave from day to day, did I 
think of his far-off sister, and wished that, for 
her sake, the precious remains might be laid 
near her. But brave men sleep around, and 
we may believe that the angel of the resurrec- 
tion guards his resting-place. Nor will it be 
long before we arc joined to those gone homo, 



324 EDWARD M. SCILNEIDER. 



and unite witli tlicm in praising our Divine 
Master before the great white throne of the 
Eternal and Infinite Father. ' Until the day 
break and the shadows flee away,' let us be 
patient, faithful, comforted." 

The following communication, from Rev. 
Addison P. Foster, of Lowell, will present some 
features of young Schneider's experience in 
the army, which are not anywhere else dis- 
tinctly brought out ; while the whole will be 
read with interest as a graphic narrative of 
events preceding and leading on to his death : — 

" I first met Edward M. Schneider on 
tl)e North Anna. It was in the last of May, 
1864. Our army had passed down through 
Virginia, leaving the bloody battle-fields of 
the Wilderness and Spotsylvania behind ; and 
here, on the banks of another river, there was 
a temporary halt, and, for a few days, some 
persistent skirmishing. In some one of these 
attacks upon the enemy, Schneider had been 
wounded in the knee, not severely, but pain- 
fully, so that he could scarcely walk. Ilis 
chaplain. Rev. Mr. Dashiell, of Stockbridge, 
Mass., whose heroic fidelity to duty, and whose 
self-denying labors of love will long be remem- 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 325 



bered by all who were under his care, intro- 
duced him to the notice of our company of 
delegates, giving us something of his history, 
and assuring us there was not a more faithful 
Christian young man in all the regiment. Wc 
took him to our tent, and, while we refreshed 
him physically, we were refreshed spiritually. 
He spoke such earnest, modest. Christian 
words, that our hearts were stirred. 

" A few days after, orders came for the 
hospital to prepare for the onward march, 
by sending all its wounded to Washington. 
It was Wednesday, the 26th of May. As 
those disabled by wounds or disease were be- 
ing hurried into rough army- wagons for their 
transportation, we found Schneider sitting by 
the edge of the woods, and weeping bitterly. 
The surgeons, under a supposition that his 
pains were unreal, and his inability to walk 
pretended, had ordered him to shift for himself. 
They are not to be blamed for this, for Schnei- 
der's wound was not in appearance serious ; 
they knew nothing of him, and they every day 
were sorely tried by soldiers who sought to 
skulk from duty by feigned misfortunes. Two 
of the delegates, who could certify to Schnei- 



326 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



der's worthiness, went to the surgeons with a 
statement of the case. On their representa- 
tion, he was sent with the other wounded men 
to Port Eoyal, thence to be forwarded, as we 
supposed, to Washington. 

" Several days passed. Our army, gathering 
itself up at Chesterfield like a huge serpent 
making ready for a spring, had uncoiled itself 
along the dusty roads that skirted the river, — 
had crossed the Pamunkey, and had come to 
another halt on the winding banks of the To- 
lopotomoy. Here, on Tuesday, the 1st of 
June (I am not positive as to the correctness 
of this date or of the preceding), I saw Ed- 
ward again. I met him near our camp, be- 
grimed with the dust of travel, loaded down 
with knapsack and gun, stepping somewhat 
feebly with his injured leg, and yet pressing 
forward with a bright, eager look upon his face, 
as if unconscious of fatigue. 

" ' Why, Edward ! ' I exclaimed ; ' how is 
this ? I supposed you were in Washington by 
this time.' 

" ' Well,' he replied, ' when I reached Port 
Royal, my knee was so much better that I 
thought I didn't need to go. I was anxious 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 327 



to get back to my regiment. I felt it to be 
my duty to join them if I could.' 

" When he might have been resting com- 
fortably in a northern city, enjoying a fur- 
lough, the noble boy had walked thirty miles 
and over, enfeebled by his wound, in the terri- 
ble heat of the opening summer, with every 
disadvantage of heavy equipments, had caught 
up with our advancing columns, and was then 
hastening to a post of hardship and danger. 

" Once more I saw him. It was Friday 
night, the ever-memorable 17th of June. 
Our army had gone steadily southward. At 
Cold Harbor it had met with fearful losses ; 
but, undiscouraged, it had thrown itself rap- 
idly to the left of the enemy, and gained a 
foothold south of the James. We were now 
within two or three miles of Petersburg. The 
position had been secured by a forced march, 
beginning early Wednesday night, lasting 
through all those hours of darkness, and con- 
tinuing, with scarcely a moment's rest, till 
late into Tliursday afternoon. The Thurs- 
day's sun soon set, but the flash and glare of 
heavy guns struggled with the gloom till the 
break of day. The steady war of cannon and 



828 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



the fitful rattle of musketry allowed no sleep. 
With the morning dawn came the fearful 
crash and tumult of a battle begun in deadly 
earnest. 

" The hospital with which our commission- 
wagon was stationed stripped itself for the 
work that all knew was coming. The place 
was cleared. Tents were improvised from 
every bit of canvas. All the stores and sur- 
gical instruments were brought out for imme- 
diate use. At noon the terrible procession 
began to come in. Ambulance after ambu- 
lance discharged its burden of wounded and 
dying men, and hastened back for more. The 
tents were quickly filled. The canvas cover- 
ings soon had their capacity tested to the ut- 
most. And then, through that awful camp of 
death, the suffering soldiers were placed in 
rows on the bare ground, under the open canopy 
of heaven, in the chill night-air, till six hun- 
dred bleeding, groaning men lay crowded side 
by side. At last, about ten o'clock, the ambu- 
lances began to come in with only a single 
man in each. ' Thank God ! ' said the doctor 
who had been directing their unlading ; ' now 
I know the wounded are almost all in.' 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 329 



" That was a terrible night. All through 
those weary hours the noble surgeons toiled at 
their work. There lay these hundreds of suf- 
fering men, faint from loss of blood, having 
eaten nothing since morning, and now brought 
from the field without their blankets, while 
the hospital could not begin to supply the de- 
ficiency. Something must be done to sustain 
their lives till morning came. I was requested 
to give them all a small quantity of stimulant. 
While in this work, passing with great diffi- 
culty among the throng, one attracted my at- 
tention by lying quiet and uncomplaining, 
when very many were groaning loudly. At 
first, too, he refused to take the stimulant, and 
did not till I told him it was the doctor's or- 
der. As I bent down to him with the cup, he 
smiled faintly in recognition. ' Don't you 
know me ? ' he said. Swinging my lantern 
round so that its lurid light shone full on a 
bronzed face, now pale with exhaustion and 
loss of blood, I recognized him instantly. It 
was Schneider. ' Why, my dear Edward ! ' I 
exclaimed ; ' are you here ? Are you badly 
wounded ? ' 

" I think so,' he replied ; ' I should like to 



330 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



have the doctor examine my wounds.' I 
hunted up Chaplain DashicU, pointed out Schnei- 
der to him, requested him to procure a doctor, 
and left for a moment to complete my distribu- 
tion. When I returned, the regimental sur-. 
geon, Dr. White, wlio was to the last tenderly 
kind to Edward, had just left, having made an 
examination. The chaplain, however, still re- 
mained, the tears falling silently upon his face. 
*0h,' he whispered to me, ' that pooi boy will 
leave us soon ! He is wounded in five places : 
his left arm is broken ; his other arm is gashed 
by a bullet ; his right hand is badly cut ; 
there is a flesh-wound in his leg.* These 
might not be fatal ) but, in addition, he is shot 
through the hoivels, and the ball has lodged in 
the back.' I afterward learned that Edward 
had entered the battle burning with a desire to 
show himself no shirker. He had determined 
to be the first man of his regiment inside the 
rebel works. With eager foot he was pressing 
on. ahead of all his companions ; he was almost 
on the earthworks of the enemy, when he fell, 
mangled and bleeding, never again to rise. 

* I do not feci positive as to the position and character of 
these three minor injuries. 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 331 



" The cliaplain and I stood for a moment 
without a word. It was a bitter tiling to think 
that death must come and snatch this youtliful 
hero from our sight. At length the chaplain 
broke the silence. 'Edward,' said he, in a 
trembling voice, ' I must tell you that you are 
mortally wounded. The doctor says you cannot 
live till morning. Do you feel ready to die ? ' 

" At first the wounded boy made no reply ; 
then, lifting his beautiful eyes towards us, he 
said : ' I came prepared for this. I love my 
Saviour and trust in him. He will take care of 
me now.' Perfectly calm and undisturbed, he 
received the news that he must die. He knew 
that such a message had no terrors for him. 

" Another silence, and again he turned his 
head, and, looking steadily at us, he slowly re- 
peated that touching verse, ending, — 

" I have for my country fallen ; 
Who will care for sister now ? * 

He .had in mind an adopted sister, the Ijc- 
trothed of his brother James, for whose pro- 
tection and provision lie was deeply anxious. 
" The chaplain stooped down and took his 
pocket-book and other valuables. ' What mes- 
sage will you send home with these ? ' 



332 • EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



" Tell my brother,' he answered, after a mo- 
ment's thought, ' to stand by the dear old flag 
and cling to the cross of Christ.' 

" Early the next morning, as soon as possible, 
Dr. White had Schneider put in the most, 
pleasant spot in the Sibley tent. Every effort 
was made to secure his comfort. Soft boughs 
were placed under him for a bed, and he was 
wrapped warmly in hospital blankets. A little 
drummer-boy, slightly wounded, who was much 
attached to Edward, was permitted to sit by 
him and take care of him. He was plentifully 
supplied with lemonade and ice-water. These 
were the only things he could take into his stom- 
ach. Everything else produced, instantane- 
ously, violent retching. 

" He lay quite comfortable through the day. 
I visited him, for a moment at a time, every 
little while, as did also another member of the 
Commission.* Chaplain Dashiell was untiring 
in his attentions. 

" Towards evening Schneider made his will. 

He left, of his little property, twenty dollars 

to the American Board, and ten dollars to the 

Christian Commission. He again expressed his 

* Charles Ncwcomb, Esq., of Boston. 



KILLED IN BATTLE. . 333 



strong faith in his Saviour, and his willing- 
ness to meet death. 

" About four o'clock on Sunday morning, 
June 19th, Chaplain Dashiell was busy on some 
errand of love, when a message came from 
Schneider, requesting to see him. The chap- 
lain was compelled to delay a moment, and, 
when he entered the tent where Schneider lay, 
he found only an empty casket : the jewel, that 
adorned it, had been removed to shine in a 
more glorious setting. 

" The burial was the same forenoon. The 
body was laid in a shallow grave, the face 
covered with a cloth. The chaplain and two 
or three of the Commission stood by. A 
prayer was ofiered, and the crumbling of the 
earth on an uncoffined corpse told us that all 
was over. 

" Under a tall pine, close by the road be- 
tween Petersburg and Prince George's Court 
Ilouse, is a grave distinguished from many 
others by a rude wooden railing about it, and 
by a board nailed to the tree, with this inscrip- 
tion : — 

*" EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER, 
OF AINTAB, TUKKEY. 

CO. K, blth MASS. REGT.'-' 



834 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



Many are the noble-hearted young men who 
fell during those gloomy years of war, — youth 
of high culture and excellent promise. Many 
are the households that still go mourning over 
sons and brothers who went down in that long 
night of agony and blood. We make no in- 
vidious comparisons. We have aimed to tell 
the stor}^ of this young man, in the plainest 
and simplest way, as a thing by itself. It 
is not in our heart to detract in one iota 
from the noble deeds of others, or to under- 
value the grief and loss of thousands of scat- 
tered households. This story may stand alone, 
as an illustration of what one young Christian 
patriot did and suffered for his country ; and 
it was patriotism, pure and unalloyed, so far as 
we can judge, that moved him. Pie was not 
after office, or honor, or bounty-money. In all 
his long pleadings for permission to be a sol- 
dier, there is not a lisp of hoped-for promotion 
or earthly rewards. ' There was, also, appar- 
ently from the first, a kind of premonition 
what the end of all this would be. The very 
thought and feeling within him made him 
know, doubtless, that if he went into the army, 
he should go boldly, — go with a full purpose 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 335 



to shun no danger or personal exposure which 
would fall to his lot as a soldier. Feeling and 
knowing this, there was a kind of forecast that 
death was very likely to come to one who 
walked this perilous path ; but, for all this, 
there was no drawing back, but ever an eager- 
ness to press on. If genuine courage and 
patriotism are ever manifested among men, 
we think that the feelings which stirred in this 
young heart are fairly to be called by those 
names. How often are these virtues ascribed 
to men in conspicuous stations, — ascribed with 
lavish and fulsome words, — when, under such 
tests and trials as this youthful soldier went 
through, they would have been found utterly 
wanting ! 

How this young man grows upon us during 
the few years we have him directly under our 
eye ! When he first came to our shores from 
his distant home, his impulses were in excess 
of his reason. He was but a boy, ruled largely 
by his fancies and his passions, — a constant 
source of anxiety to his friends. It was quite 
problematical what liis life and character would 
be. But when the balance had been adjusted 
by the operations of the Holy Spirit upon his 



336 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



soul, the fickleness and blind impulse of tlio 
boy cease, and lie begins to move before us 
with the dignity and concentrated force of a 
man. And from that day forward our respect 
for him constantly increases ; and when, at last, 
the fatal day comes, we cannot but feel that a 
hero has died. Though young in years, and 
wearing only the uniform of a private, there is 
a certain greatness about those last months 
of his life, and the manner in which he met 
death. Strong and brave men pause involun- 
tarily at such a spectacle, moved with pro- 
found homage and respect. 

He was born on the 17th of August, 1846, 
and he fell, mortally wounded, on the 17th of 
June, wanting just two months of the military 
age. He left Massachusetts for the front on 
the 18tli of April ; so that in the short space 
of two months his whole work, as a soldier, 
was done. 

We have not overrated the impression which 
his life and death made upon his military com- 
panions, upon his Christian instructors and 
guides, and upon the public at large, so far as 
the facts were known. When the news of his 
death reached Andover, as we learn from a 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 337 



letter of one of his scliool-compaiiioiis, " the 
students of the Theological Seminary placed 
their flag at half-mast. At the Academy, Dr. 
Taylor, the Principal, made quite lengthy re- 
marks upon his death and dying words, which 
were very affecting, — the doctor himself being 
moved to tears. Other marks of respect were 
paid to his memory." 

At the time of young Schneider's death, Mr. 
C. C. Coffin ("Carleton"), was the army-cor- 
respondent of the " Boston Journal " ; and the 
letter which he wrote soon after, and which 
was published in the " Journal," is such a 
just and beautiful tribute to his memory, that, 
though some things already recorded will be 
repeated, we give it entire ; — 

" IN MEMORIAM. 

" While riding up from City Point to the 
front to-day, a friend, attached to the Christian 
Commission, pointed out a grave by the road- 
side, near the Fifth Corps hospital, about a mile 
east of the Dunn House. For me it had a spe- 
cial interest, as it will have for thousands, — 
the grave of Edward M. Schneider, 5Tth Mass. 

22 



338 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



"When the regiment was formed, he was a stu- 
dent in Phillips Academy, Andover. From mo- 
tives of patriotism purely, against the wishes 
of friends, he left the literature of the ancients, 
the history of the past, to become an actor in 
the present, and to do what he could for the 
future. His father is the well-known mission- 
ary of the American Board at Aintab, Turkey ; 
and the son did Avhat he thought would meet 
his approval. 

" The chaplain of the regiment, Rev. Mr. 
Dashicll, has kindly given me information of 
what he has done for his country. On the 
march from Annapolis, he, though but seven- 
teen years old, and unaccustomed to hardship, 
kept his place in the ranks, not once falling 
out, from the encampment by the waters of 
the Chesapeake to the Rapidan. He was slightly 
wounded on tlie North Anna, and was sent to' 
Port Royal for transportation to Washington, 
but of his own accord, returned to his regi- 
ment, joining it at Coal Harbor. While pre- 
paring for the charge upon the enemy's works, 
on the 17th, beyond the Dunn house, he said 
to the chaplain, ' I intend to be the first one to 
enter their works.' 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 339 



" The charge was made. How grandly they 
moved through the woods ! How quickly they 
swept up to the rebel line of defensive works, 
like an ocean billow upon a breakwater, rolling 
over it, engulfing all beyond ! The brave 
young soldier tried to make good his words. 
With eager feet he led the advance, breaking 
out from the line and keeping a rod or two in 
advance. 

"He was almost there, — not quite, — al- 
most near enough to feel the hot flash of the 
rebel musketry in his face, — near enough to 
be covered with the sulphurous cloud from the 
cannon, — when he fell, shot through the body. 

" He was carried to the hospital, with six 
hundred and fifty of his division comrades. 
He lay all night with his wound undressed, 
waiting his turn. There was not a murmur 
from his lips. The chaplain looked at his 
wound. 

" ' What do you think of it ? ' Seeing that 
it was mortal, he could not articulate a reply ; 
neither could he restrain his tears. He re- 
membered the last injunction of the young 
soldier's older sister : ' I commit him to your 
care.' The young hero interpreted the mean- 



840 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



ing of the tear — that his wound was mortal. 
' Do not weep,' he said ; ' it is God's will. I 
wish you to write to my father and tell him 
that I have tried to do my duty to my country 
and to God.'' He disposed of his effects, giving 
ten dollars to the Christian Commission, twenty 
dollars to the American Board, and trifles to 
his friends. Then, in the simplicity of his 
heart, he said : ' I have a good many friends, 
school-mates and companions. They will want 
to know where I am, — how I am getting on. 
You can let them know I am gone, and that I 
die content. And, chaplain, the boys in the 
regiment, — I want you to tell them to stand 
hy the dear old flag ! And there is my brother 
in the navy, — write to him and tell him to 
stand hy the flag and cling to the cross of 
Christ ! ' 

'' The surgeon came and examined the 
wound. ' It is my duty to tell you that you 
will soon go home,' he said. 

" ' Yes, doctor, I am going home. I am 
not afraid to die. I don't know how the val- 
ley will be when- 1 get to it, but it is all bright 
now.' Then, gathering up his waning strength, 
he repeated the verse often sung by the sol- 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 341 



diers, who, amid all the whirl and excitement 
of the camp anjl battle-field, never forget those 
whom they have left behind them, — mother, 
sister, father, brother. Calmly, clearly, dis- 
tinctly, he repeated the lines, — the chorus of 
the song, — 

" ' Soon with angels I'll be marching, 
With bright laurels on my brow ; 
I have for my country fallen, 
"Who wjj^ care for sister now 1 ' 

" The night wore away. Death came on 
apace. He suffered intense pain ; but not a 
murmur escaped his lips. Sabbath morning 
came, and with the coming of the light he 
passed away. On the 17th of June, eighty- 
nine years ago, the sires of freedom freely 
gave their lives on Bunker Hill for the cause 
they loved. Not less worthy of remembrance 
are those who fell in front of Petersburg on 
this memorable day. 

" Xot many days hence a gray-haired man, 
far away in the Orient, will receive the tidings. 
The affliction may be severe ; for, loving his 
work, serving his Master, he doubtless has 
looked down the vista of coming years, and 



342 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



beheld the boy succeeding him as a missionary 
of the Gospel ; but in his affliction will he not 
thank God that he had such a son ? 

" He has not lived in vain. He has done 
his work, and has gone home to engage in a 
higher service. It was not for him to have all 
his heart's desire here, — to be the first to 
stand upon the rampart of the enemy's works, 

— but fearlessly and triumphantly he van- 
quished the last enemy, and came off a mighty 
conqueror. 

" ' I die content,' said the heroic and noble 
Wolfe, at Quebec, when told that the French 
were fleeing. 

" ' Stand up for Jesus,' said Dudley Tyng, 
in his last hours, — words which have warmed 
and moved thousands of Christian hearts. 

" ' Let me die with my face to the enemy,' 
was the last command of General Eice, the 
Christian, the soldier, the patriot, at Spotsyl- 
vania ; but equally worthy of a place in the 
memories of men are the words of Edward M. 
Schneider, — the boy, the student, hardly 
eighteen years of ago, the leader in the charge, 

— to his brother. They are the essence of all 
that Wolfe and Tyng and Rice uttered in their 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 343 



last moments. His grave is by the road-side, 
marked by a rude paling erected by Rev. Mr. 
Dasliiell. The summer breeze sweeps through 
the sighing pines above the heaved-up mound. 
Mournful yet sweet the music of the wind- 
harp : mournful, in that one so young, so 
full of life, capable of such a future, should 
go so soon ; sweet, in that he did his work 
so well. Had he lived a century, he could 
not have made it more complete. It was a 
short life, extending only from the peaceful 
shade of Old Andover to the intrenchment of 
Petersburg ; ]}ut oh how full ! 

" I have given the record as narrated by his 
chajjlain and by members of the Christian 
Commission, who were with him in his last 
moments. It is plain, simple, true. I am 
refreshed. The future is not dark. Will the 
tree of liberty become diseased and fall prema- 
turely into the sear and yellow leaf, if nour- 
ished by such vital blood ? No. There is 
compensation in God's economy. It is costly 
to sow such seed ; but the return will be 
abundant, the harvest golden. Amid all the 
pam, liie anguish, the tearing of heart-strings, 
waste and desolation of war, we have such 



344 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



compensation as this. There arc thousands 
who are ready to follow where he marched to 
the cannon's mouth ; and there are other 
thousands, who have not yet taken their places 
in the ranks, young as he in years, who, 
as they read this record, will feel the patriotic 
flame kindling as never before. 

" One week ago this Sunday morning, he 
passed, from the din of the dry, hot, dusty, 
bloody field of battle, to that land where peace 
floweth like a river for evermore. I have 
stood by the mouldering dust of those whose 
names are great in history, whose deeds and 
virtues are cut in brass and marble, who were 
reverenced while living and mourned for 
when dead ; but never have I felt a profounder 
reverence for departed worth than for him, — 
asleep beneath the pines, uncoffined, un- 
shrouded, wearing, as when he fell, tiie uni- 
form of his country. His last words — the 
messages to his comrades, to his father and 
his brother — will live so long as the flag of 
our country shall wave, or the cross of Christ 
endure. ' Stand ujp for the dear old flag 
and cling to the cross of Christ ! ' Xiiey are 
the emblems of all our hopes for time and 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 345 



eternity. Short, full, rounded, complete, his 

life. Glorious such a death ! 

" Carleton." 

Many a worker in the Christian Commis- 
sion, many a sun-browned soldier, has stopped 
to mourn over that quiet grave near the road- 
side at Petersburg. 

A short time after his death, a writer — 
whom, from his signature, we understand to 
be A. D. F. Randolph, of New York city — 
published the following beautiful tribute to 
the young Christian patriot and hero, in the 
columns of " Harper's Weekly " : — 

"THE WORDS OF SCHNEIDER. 

"army of the POTOMAC, JUNE, 1864. 

" We had crossed the Rappahannock, 

A hundred thousand men ; 
We had fought and flanked the foe, boys. 

And sent him to his den ; 
And of all who marched or skirmished, 

Of all who worked or fought. 
Not one of the living or the dead 
■ Had nobler aim or thought 
Than he now sleeping yonder. 

Who challenged the foe at bav. 



346 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



And stormed the works beyond the hill, 
And failed to win the day. 

" He was nothing but a stripling, 

And, boys, I knew him well ; 
And they told his friends, — it soothed them, 

I was near him when he fell. 
As the men were getting ready. 

With earnest voice he said, 
* I am first the works to enter ; 

I lead, and am not led.' 
The line swept swiftly onward. 

And Schneider led the way : 
He did not seize the roaring guns, — 

He talked with death that day ! 

" His father lives over the ocean, — 

He'd one son dead before, — 
And the chaplain wrote the good old man 

That this one was no more. 
And the boy, I watched beside him. 

With others brave as he, 
But the words that passed his closing lips 

Ring out for you and me : 
' / tried to do my duty 

To my country and my God.* — 
O men at home ! he, but a boy. 

For you this valley trod ! 

** More than this, my friends, he uttered ; 
It sounded like a psalm ; 
And the angel watching in the tent 
Made everything so calm ; 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 347 



' Now, dear chaplain/ said the hero, 

' My friends will want to know 
How goes it ; so tell 'em I have gone, ' 

And was content to go ; 
And, chaplain, tell my comrades, 

If the war should seem to drag, 
I say to you, I say to them, 

Stand by the dear old Flao.' j 

" Will you hear rae further, comrades. 

Or have you heard enough ? 
N"c matter, Tom, the tears have come 

From some of sterner stuff. 
He'd a brother iii the navy. 

As brave, as true as he. 
On the ocean, fighting rebel crews 

To make the ocean free ! 
' Now, chaplain, tell my brother. 

Though he suffer pain and loss. 
To closely cling to the dear old flag. 

To Jesus and his Cross.' 

** Hearken to me still, my comrades ; 

Sometimes there comes to me 
A dream of the happy future years. 

And what is then to be : 
Though it seems to come but slowly, 

God's day is drawing near. 
When the rebel chiefs before the world 

Shall stand for judgment here. 
This boy who died for freedom. 

Though a private — nothing more — 
Siiall live in contrast with the men 

That mankind will abhor ! 



848 EDWARD M. SCnNEIDER. 



" O yc men who ne'er have spoken 
A word for such as he, 
Who are plotting while we in the battle 

Die that you may be free, — 
And ye whose Lord has been taken, 

And laid you know not where ! 
Let the words of this hero wake you 

To watching and to prayer : 
' I have tried to do my duty 

To my country and my God ! ' — 
O men ! O Christians ! rise and tread 
The way this hero trod ! " 

But this was sad news to go to that far-off, 
lonely missionary house in Aintab. Out of 
that little flock of five, that we saw together 
in Smyrna, in 1852, three have now gone. 
Death, that had for so many years spared the 
sacred enclosure of this Christian household, 
had now removed the mother and three of 
the children. Could these repeated griefs be 
borne ? The message of Edward's death was 
speedily communicated to Englewood, and 
Rev. Edward B. D wight breaks the sad intelli- 
gence to his father. It is a long letter, and 
we have already quoted parts of it as better 
fitting an earlier stage of our narrative. That 
part which we now give is brief; but these 
opening sentences were sufficient to unfold 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 349 



the sad story to the waiting, anxious friends 
at Aintab. Mr. Dwight says : — 

" My dear Father, — God so wills it that 
our letters from here shall convey but the 
saddest tidings in these days. It is but a very 
few days since Harry (his brother) wrote to 
inform you of James's departure for a better 
world. Now another sorrow is burdening us. 
Eddie, too, has left us. A few days since, we 
saw the name of E. M. Schneider mentioned 
in the papers, among the wounded at the 
fierce assault upon the rebel works at Peters- 
burg, but knew not of the extent of the wound 
until to-night. Now a letter has reached us 
from his chaplain. Rev. Mr. Dashiell, announc- 
ing his death." 

We might, perhaps, conceive that no lan- 
guage could better express the feelings that 
would stir in that father's heart, far away, 
than those words, wonderful for their strength 
and concentrated energy, which Mrs. Brown- 
ing puts into the mouth of the Italian mother, 
when the news came, first, that one of her 
sons had fallen in the cause of Italian liberty, 



350 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



followed almost immediately by tlio message 
that the other also had fallen : — 

** Dead ! one of thera shot by the sea in the east. 
And one of them shot in the west by the sea ! 
Dead ! both my boys ! When you sit at the feast, 
And are wanting a great song for Italy free, 
Let none look at me. 

" To teach them . . It stings then. I made them, indeed, 
Speak plain the word 'country ' ! I taught them, no doubt. 
That a country's a thing men should die for at need ; 
/prated of liberty, rights, and about 
The tyrant turned out. 

" And when their eyes flashed . . O my beautiful eyes ! 
I exulted ! nay, let them go forth at the wheels 
Of the guns, and denied not. But then the surprise. 

When one sits quite alone ! Then one weeps, then one 
kneels ! 

— God ! how the house feels ! 

" Dead ! One of them sliot by the sea in the west. 
And one of them shot in the east by the sea ! 
Both ! both my boys ! — If, in keeping the feast. 
You want a great song for Italy free. 
Let none look at me." 

But these words, wonderfully impressive 
though they may be, do not have the tone of 
that calm, quiet, Christian response which 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 351 



came back from Aintab. Dr. Schneider 
writes : — 

"Aintab, July 27, 1864. 

" My precious Daughter Eliza, — Last 
Saturday evening, July 23d, came yours of 
June 23d, and William's of the 22d, announc- 
ing the fall of our dear Eddie. Of course it 
overwhelmed us. The first thing I read, on 
opening the letter, was his death. I cannot 
say that it was unexpected to me. From the 
day of the terrible battle on the North Anna 
River, I have been trembling for him; and 
then, as I followed the several battles that 
succeeded for some time, I was constantly in 
alarm lest he should be among the dead, 
wounded, or prisoners. My precious child! 
what shall I say, what can I say, to this double 
loss ? Coming so soon after the other, it seems 
the more severe. My only refuge is the wisdom 
and mercy of God. I hnoio that he doeth all 
things well, and that, even in our afflictions, 
he is aiming at our good. Painful as this 
fresh bereavement is, it must in some way 
work for our good, and must have been the 
best thing for our dear Eddie. Let us comfort 
ourselves with this assurance. The fact, that 



352 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



he was a Christian and a decided one, should 
assuage our grief. I remember how many 
are sacrificed in this war, who have not left 
behind them, for the consolation of their 
friends, such a hope. "Ten thousands, all over 
our land, are mourning without such mitiga- 
tions to their griefs. I am glad, also, that his 
precious remains were not buried promis- 
cuously with others on the battle-field, but are 
where they can be distinguished from others. 
How glad I shall be to get the copy of his let- 
ter to you, in which he gives directions how to 
dispose of his little treasures ; especially to get 
his dying messages from his chaplain ! It is a 
great comfort to me, that he so favorably im- 
pressed that good man, and that there is so . 
much reason to believe that his influence in 
the army was salutary and Christian. There 
are many other things, — many that should 
comfort us. Still a wave of desolation will 
sometimes come over me, and, I doubt not, 
over you. But we must look up: there is 
our comfort and hope. If these trials draw 
us nearer and nearer to God, and prepare us 
more and more for the heavenly world, they " 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 353 



will not have been in vain to us. And, so far 
as we can comprehend, that is their aim. 

" How eagerly we shall look for the n^xt 
mail ! It will bring us further particulars. 
Many and very precious letters of sympathy 
have come to us, and probably others will yet 
come. They give us great comfort. 
" Your loving father, 

" Benjamin Schneider." 

By the same mail Mrs. Schneider writes ; 
and a few sentences from her letter will help 
to reveal the state of thought and feeling in 
this distant missionary home : — 

"AiNTAB, July 27,1864. 

" My dear Eliza and A , — Let me tell 

you when there are chords of feeling touched 
that vibrate with keenest anguish, longing 
and ardent prayer. It is when your father, 
at morning worship, requests healing and 
strength and comfort ^for our dear daughter 8.^ 
Henceforth we cannot separate you. And so 
now, in our present distress, in our renewed 
sorrow, you are bound up in the same bundle 
of love. . . As I came in from our Satur- 

23 



354 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



da}^ evening prayer-meeting, I saw that your 
father had returned from meeting the mail, 
and, with trembling feet, I walked up the steps 
to the study. On opening the door, the first 
look of your father revealed the fact. I asked, 
no question. With trembling lips he uttered, 
' He's gone ! he's gone ! ' . . Miss Proctor, 
in speaking of him, last evening, referred to 
the account of Faithful's death. ' Now, I saw 
that there stood behind the multitude, a chariot 
and a couple of horses, waiting for Faithful, 
who was carried up through the clouds, with 
sound of trumpet, the Clearest ivay to the celes- 
tial gate.' 

"I dare not dwell on the ivayy^i^ — his suf- 
ferings those two days. But, oh! wliat reason 
for gratitude, that the chaplain was drawn 
to him ; that he loved him, and took care of 
him! . . . 

" Ever yours, 

" Auntie." 

Surely there is nothing in all this to forbid 
that Christian father from joining, with full 
heart and voice, in the " great song " for 
America " free." And though the voice may 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 



355 



tremble while he sings, yet his soul is upborne 
with a fuller, nobler joy, because by a great 
price he has earned the right to rejoice. 



In the narrative which is now finished, we 
have been passing through a changing scene 
of joy and sorrow, — pure and innocent joy 
minded with keenest anguish. We have been 
led along a way of sharp and quick transi- 
tions,— bright and beautiful hopes suddenly 
dashed, — great plans frustrated. We have 
seen the pain that comes from the separation 
of households, even in this earthly life, and 
the more painful separation wrought by death. 
But, as we cast one glance backward, through 
it all and out of it all comes this conviction, 
that there is nothing on earth so beautiful as 
an earnest and well-spent Christian life. How 
noble and dignified is true Christian labor! 
What though it involves so much self-denial 
and sacrifice ? Wliat though the faithful serv- 
ant of Christ must wear away his life "in 
journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils 
of robbers . . in weariness and painful- 
ness? " There is a high and sacred joy in the 



856 EDWARD M. SCHNEIDER. 



midst of it all, because God from on high looks 
down and says, " Well done, good and faith- 
ful servant.'^ And then, beyond it all, when 
a few short years shall have rolled away, 
" there remaineth a rest for the people of 
God." There is a calm that comes after all 
these storms and agitations ; there is security 
after these years of anxiety ; there is rest after 
toil. " The burden and heat of the day " will 
soon be over, and the quiet evening will come 
on, when the weary ones shall be at rest. 

" Upon the hills the wind is sharp and cold } 
The sweet young grasses wither on the wold, 
And we, O Lord, have wandered from thy fold ; 
But evening brings us home. 

" Among the mists we stumbled, and the rocks 
Where the brown lichen whitens, and the fox 
Watches the straggler from the scattered flocks ; 
But evening brings us home. 

*' The sharp thorns prick us, and our tender feet 
Are cut and bleeding ; and the lambs repeat 
Their pitiful complaints. Oh, rest is sweet 
When evening brings us home ! 

" We have been wounded by the hunter's darts ; 
Our eyes are very heavy, and our hearts 
Search for thy coming. When the light departs, 
At evening bring us home. 



KILLED IN BATTLE. 357 



The darkness gathers. Through the gloom no star 
Rises to guide us. We have wandered far ; 
Without thy lamp we know not where we are. 
At evening bring us home. 

The clouds are round us, and the snow-drifts thicken ; 
O thou, dear Shepherd, leave us not to sicken 
In the waste night, — our tardy footsteps quicken ; 
At evening bring us home." * 

* Macmillan'3 Magazine. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




0011 621 1105 



